Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme
by Crystallic Rain
Summary: Prince Kurt has found himself falling for Blaine, a mere stablehand. Even without their distinct differences in class, love would be difficult enough-yet it is proving itself nearly impossible. AU Klaine; rating for violence and sexual scenes
1. Prologue

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
by crystallicrain  
****in collaboration with cacell**

_Love imposes impossible tasks-  
__Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme-  
Although not more than any heart asks,  
And I must know he's a true love of mine..  
_- "Scarborough Fayre", the Mediaeval Baebes

**Notes: **Oh hey, it's a new novel-length piece. (: This story is going to be based off of the amazing works by (and in collaboration with) cacell. Her works are amazing, and she's decided to draw an accompanying piece for every chapter I write (which is with her help). She's amazing, and you should give her love and cookies. :D

Chapter art links found in profile.

* * *

The young boy awoke to a soft touch on his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open, and they settled on a pair of blue eyes identical to his own.

"Kurt, darling," said the woman's soft voice, "get out of bed."

"Did I oversleep?" asked the small boy groggily, reaching his hands up to rub at his eyes.

His mother smiled down at him, brushing his hair out of his eyes with a gentle touch. "No," she told him quietly. "I'm going to show you something."

Within moments the boy was up and dressed, holding onto his mother's arm as she led him to the castle grounds. He found himself desperately holding back a yawn, realising just how early it was; the grass was still wet with dew, the sky still painted with a few remaining pink and orange hues.

Kurt was suddenly filled with excitement as he realised the path he and his mother were taking led straight to the horse barn. Immediately he had an inkling of what it was that his mother was so eager to show him—the timing was, after all, just about right...

Elizabeth's hand slipped into her son's, grasping the tiny fingers tightly in her own and leading the way into the stable. She let him slide in front of her, resting her hands on his shoulders. She gently pushed him forward to one of the center stalls.

The stablehand looked up at the presence of the queen and smiled, bowing his head for a brief moment. "Your majesty," he greeted her.

Elizabeth smiled graciously at the man before her. "I was hoping to show my son," she told him kindly.

"But of course," he responded, smiling in return. He stood up, and Kurt's eyes widened at the sight before him, every ounce of tiredness that remained in his body now retreating.

A chocolate-coloured foal was laying beside its mother. The filly looked up at the young boy, and she tried to get to her feet. Her limbs with long and slender and she was very clumsy on them, stumbling slightly, yet Kurt was still completely in awe of the newborn. He looked at his mother, who nodded, nudging him forward.

Cautiously, Kurt stepped toward the filly, sheepishly reaching his hand out. At once she leaned into his touch, still shaky on her hooves. Immediately the young boy's face broke out into a grin, his heart swelling in his chest.

"What do you think of her?" Elizabeth asked, smiling at her son as she crouched beside him, her hands holding onto his waist. Again, he turned to his mother.

"I love her!" he responded immediately, his voice breathless. "Mother, she's so beautiful, she—"

"She's yours," she whispered in his ear. The boy's mouth fell open in disbelief. "At least, she will be," the queen amended. "When she's old enough, she'll be your very own. And you and I? We'll go riding every day."

The boy flung his arms around his mother's neck. She laughed, holding her son tightly to her.

"She's mine?" he asked her, still unbelieving. "And we'll really get to ride together? Do you promise?"

She nodded again, brushing his hair out of his face, her hand resting on her cheek. "I promise," she told him.


	2. Chapter One

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
by crystallicrain  
****in collaboration with cacell**

**Notes: **Here's chapter one, you guys! Thank you so much for all the reviews, they make me so happy. (And especially after an awful day like today, you guys make me so happy!) So enjoy. (:

Chapter art links found in profile.

* * *

The young prince sighed, staring out the window just beyond his desk. His eyes narrowed, catching sight of a young man with dark curls, slightly shorter and stockier than the two young stablehands he was conversing with on the grounds. He was certain he didn't recognise the boy, as he had always made it a point to know those who worked around the castle. But no, he definitely did not know this boy. The prince frowned, trying to make sense of the scene before him.

However, at that moment the door to the study opened with violent force, and he whipped around at the sound, watching as a much taller brunette boy walked into the room. The young prince looked at him disapprovingly.

"Finn, what on earth—"

"I am _so _sick of him," Finn half-shouted, causing the smaller boy's eyebrows to shoot up. "I'm a damn _prince_, and he's treating me like—like—"

"What are you talking about?"

"Karofsky!" Finn spat, folding his arms across his chest. "I swear, Kurt, he's possibly the worst thing that's happened to our father's army—"

"_My_ father's army," Kurt corrected the other boy. Finn frowned.

"He _is_ my step-father," he mumbled.

Kurt waved his hand dismissively at his step-brother. "Right," he sighed, returning his attention to the books that lay abandoned on his desk. He picked up his pen and began twirling it in his fingers.

"I _hate_ that he's made his way to commander," Finn continued, pacing the floor. "And this stupid celebration for him tonight..."

"Celebration?" Kurt repeated, his hands freezing. He turned his head back to his step-brother.

Finn looked at him curiously. "Has no one told you?" Kurt shook his head. "We're all expected to be there—well, _here._"

"Here?" Kurt asked again. He sighed frustratedly, slamming his pen onto the desk. He shut the books in front of him and folded his arms. "This is going to be unbearable, isn't it?"

"Most likely," Finn agreed, settling himself in an armchair beside Kurt's desk. "It was our parents' idea, though, and it's going to be a rather big event."

Kurt drummed his fingers against the top of his desk, resigning himself to the fact that there was no possible way he could get out of this. Of course he'd be expected to be there; he was the prince, and this was a formal occasion. He let out another agitated breath, standing up from his seat.

"Where are you going?" Finn asked, as Kurt began making his way to the door.

"I'm going riding," Kurt said shortly. He paused, turning back to his step-brother. "Finn, do you know anything about the boy that was with the stablehands when you came in here?"

"Oh," Finn said, nodding, sitting up straight in his chair. "Mother hired him. He's going to help take care of the horses."

"Hm." Kurt glanced curiously back out the window, but the boy was nowhere to be seen.

"I think his name is Blaine," Finn continued.

Kurt nodded absently, folding one arm across his stomach, placing the other thoughtfully under his chin. Finn then clapped his hands on his knees, standing up beside the smaller prince. "Well, have fun riding," he said, squeezing the boy's shoulder very briefly. "I'll see you tonight." And with a small smile, he was gone.

Kurt brushed some of his hair out of his face, giving himself just a brief moment before leaving the castle.

His feet took him down the path to the stables without a second thought. It had become such a reflexive route, one that seemed to take less and less time each time he walked it.

The moment he entered the stable, Kurt recognised the new stableboy, who was brushing the mane of his precious mare. He didn't seem to be aware of the prince's presence, taking care of the horse instead.

"Blaine, is it?"

The young man turned around. He bowed. "Yes, your highness." He straightened, and Kurt allowed himself a moment to take him in. He was just slightly shorter than the prince, though not as slender. His jaw was defined, his dark curly hair parted at the side at an attempt to appear presentable. His hands were in front of him, and Kurt noted that they were definitely the hands of a worker, looking rough and callused.

The prince brushed his hair out of his face again. "Yes, well, I'm going riding," he said.

"Right, yes. Right away," Blaine responded quickly. He immediately began fumbling with the saddle, and Kurt forced himself to turn away, instead focusing on one of the other horses his father kept. After a few moments, he glimpsed back at Blaine, who was now gently adjusting the bridle on the horse's face. He led the horse to Kurt, offering him the reigns.

He glanced hesitantly at the small prince. "Do you—er—need any—"

"I'm fine, thank you," Kurt said haughtily. He hoisted himself up onto the horse without sparing another glance at the stablehand.

He pressed his heels gently into the horse, and at once she began to move. A wave of calm immediately washed over the prince, and he found himself urging the horse to go faster, feeling immensely better with each step.

As soon as the horse was cantering, however, the realisation struck Kurt that something was not quite right. Just as he pulled on her reigns to slow the mare's speed, she turned, the saddle slipping from its position on top of her.

Before he could even have a moment to think of a proper reaction, Kurt's shoulder collided painfully with the ground, a sharp pain shooting through his arm. He struggled to breathe in, the pain nearly unbearable. He coughed and shuddered violently, rolling onto his back. He clutched at his arm, feeling the bare skin wet and sticky with blood, his shirt sleeve completely torn. The fallen saddle lay just a few meters from him.

He closed his eyes tightly, feeling the humiliation settle in with the pain. _Never_ had this happened before. Even when he had first started riding on his own, he'd never fallen. He'd always been so careful to ensure that his horse was saddled properly; yet his stablehands were never foolish enough to not check it themselves. And now, he was laying on the ground, injured and humiliated, his horse, his dear sweet Elizabeth, having run off—

The reality hit him hard, and he forced himself to a sitting position. He needed to find his horse, needed to find her and bring her home. He needed to, he couldn't lose her...

Immediately Blaine was beside him, looking scared and hesitant.

"Your highness, I—"

"You idiot!" Kurt shouted at the stableboy, feeling the anger bubble inside him. "This is all your fault! Where would _you_ be if the prince was _killed_? You're lucky this is all that happened! If my father—"

"Please, sir!" Blaine said quickly, trying to reach out to the other boy, but Kurt quickly pulled away from him. He immediately regretted it, feeling the pain in his arm worsen when he did so.

"Don't touch me," he said in a dangerous tone. "You have no right. If I tell my father—"

"If?" Blaine asked uncertainly. "If—if you tell his majesty?"

Kurt looked away from the stableboy. "Go find my Elizabeth."

"But you're hurt," Blaine pressed on cautiously. "Let me—"

"Stop arguing with me, you have absolutely no right to do so," Kurt told him deliberately. He sighed frustratedly at the concern that was on Blaine's features. "Fine, go get my brother. Go get Finn, then you _go find my horse._"

Blaine nodded, jumping to his feet and running back to the castle.

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to slow his breathing. The pain in his arm made him feel a little uneasy, though he simultaneously felt gracious he hadn't hurt himself in any other way. He tried to count each breath he took, focusing on the numbers instead of the pain, trying not to think of just how desperately long it was taking the boy to fetch the other prince for him.

"What happened?" Finn asked immediately, kneeling beside his step-brother. Kurt opened his eyes as Finn tore off a portion of his clean, white shirt sleeve, pressing it to Kurt's arm.

"I..." Kurt's eyes flickered to Blaine, who seemed very nervous. He sighed. "I fell. While I was riding."

Finn raised his eyebrows. "But you _never_ fall," he said flatly. "I'm the one that usually falls."

"Well, it was bound to happen some time," Kurt said shortly. "And Blaine here was kind enough to go find Elizabeth for me, isn't that right?"

Blaine nodded. "Yes, your highness," he responded quickly. "I—I'll go now."

Kurt closed his eyes, breathing deeply. When he opened them again, Blaine was gone, and Finn was looking at him with confusion and concern.

"Would... would you like me to take you back to the castle?" he asked hesitantly. Kurt nodded slowly, not looking at the much taller boy. He then scooped up the young prince in his arms and began walking.

"What really happened?" Finn asked him at last.

Kurt still wouldn't look at the other boy. "Nothing," he said. "I told you what happened."

"And that's the story you're going to stand by?" Finn inquired. "We both know you don't just fall off of your horse. Your father said you never did, even when you were first learning."

"Yes, well," Kurt mumbled. "I fell today. So now we can't say it's never happened."

Finn sighed as he and his brother entered the castle. "Should I assume, then, that you're not going to tell the king what really happened, either?"

"I think you could fairly assume that, yes."

Finn shook his head. They were silent the rest of the way to Kurt's room, where Finn finally placed the small boy onto his bed.

"I'm going to get Mercedes," he said, and Kurt nodded, laying back on his pillows. Within seconds, the young chambermaid entered the room, immediately settling herself in a chair beside Kurt's bed. She set a few bottles and some bandages on the table beside her, looking at the prince sadly.

"Show me what happened, sweetheart," she said, and Kurt carefully took the scrap of shirt off his arm, and Mercedes clicked her tongue. Immediately she began cleaning and dressing the wound.

"Your brother, his highness, said I needed to draw some information about what happened out of you," she said, giving him a look that made him smile.

"And what will you tell him when he asks what you found out?"

"That you wouldn't say a word."

Kurt smiled warmly at the young girl before him, who was now finishing with his injury, tightening the bandage slightly.

"Well?" she asked, shifting onto the bed with him. The prince laughed, sitting up and curling his feet beneath him.

"Karofsky's been named commander," he said somberly, "and we're having a feast for him tonight."

Mercedes frowned. "So that's what all this nonsense going on right now is about?" she asked.

Kurt nodded. "For some unknown reason, my father thought it was a nice idea," he sighed. "Personally, I don't think it's one of his smarter ones, but it isn't up to me."

"_Yet_," Mercedes smiled, and Kurt did as well.

"Well, I decided to go riding," Kurt went on. "However, the new stableboy was an imbecile and didn't check the saddle—"

"Did you check it?" Mercedes asked knowingly.

Kurt shifted uncomfortably. "I was distracted," was his only answer.

Mercedes shook her head. "Well, I can't say I'm happy with this stablehand, either," she said. "If he hurt's my prince again, he'll be answering to _me_."

Kurt smiled warmly at her. "Could you... could you go to the stables and see if he found my Elizabeth?" he asked her quietly.

She nodded, getting to her feet, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Take a rest before tonight," she told him. "I'll let you know if I find anything about Elizabeth."

"Thank you," Kurt whispered as Mercedes swept her supplies into her hands, pulling the chamber door behind her as she left.


	3. Chapter Two

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
by crystallicrain  
****in collaboration with cacell**

**Notes: **Here we go agaaain!

Chapter art links found in profile.

* * *

Kurt gently flexed his arm, bending and unbending his elbow. He watched himself doing so in the mirror, trying desperately not to show any signs of pain or discomfort. He sighed, still dissatisfied, but resignedly pulled on his dress coat all the same. A little tight over the bandages, but he could make do.

The young prince took a deep breath, forcing himself out of his room and down the stairs. He knew he was expected, and that he had no other choice but to attend.

He tried to remain unnoticed as he arrived, hoping that he could merely show he father that he had attended, but primarily remain invisible, especially to the guest of honor.

The celebration, overall, was rather beautiful. The hall was greatly decorated; Kurt expected it took Mercedes and the others hours to get it all finished. There was cheerful music being played by a few musicians at the far right of the hall, many couples dancing. Along the left side of the hall was a long table, completely covered in treats for the guests, and there were several tables along the opposite wall where other guests were sitting and conversing. For a brief moment, Kurt considered actually making an attempt to enjoy it all—but he was reminded immediately that this _could not_ be a nice occasion when Karofsky would be there, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the commander made his presence known to the prince.

Kurt quickly made his way to the front of the hall, trying his best to remain inconspicuous for as long as possible. Soon enough he reached his royal family, his father and step-mother sitting in their thrones. Finn stood between them, smiling at the boy as he approached.

"There's my son," King Burt said warmly to the boy. "I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't be coming down."

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Finn did.

"Is your arm better, then?" the other prince asked him, and immediately Kurt glared at the boy.

"What happened to your arm?" Burt immediately inquired, his son still staring angrily at the other boy.

"I fell off Elizabeth, earlier," Kurt said bitterly.

"Oh, love," Carole said sympathetically, placing a hand over her mouth.

"What rubbish!" Burt exclaimed, and Kurt raised his eyebrows at his father. "Son, you haven't fallen off—"

"Why," Kurt demanded immediately, "is everyone convinced that this is so completely impossible? I fell, all right? Can we just move on from this already?"

Both Burt and Carole looked taken aback, Finn appearing rather apologetic himself. Kurt brushed his hair off his forehead, feeling rather unsettled himself. He knew it would be just as easy—if not _easier_—to blame the stableboy, to let them know of his grave error and let him take the fall for all of it. Really, he had no attachment to the boy, not like Mercedes or some of the other servants and workers he'd grown so fond of over the years. It would be so completely easy, so wasn't he letting it be that way?

"Look, son..." Burt began, resting a protective hand on the boy's shoulder, but Kurt stepped back, shaking his head.

"I'm going to see what Brittany and Lauren have laid out tonight," he said softly. "I haven't properly eaten today."

Carole smiled at the boy with uncertainty. "All right, love."

Kurt strode over to the long table set out, covered in a great variety of food, including a rather delectable-looking array of sweets.

"You should try the lumbolls," said a soft voice beside him, and Kurt nearly jumped.

He turned to the young blond, who was smiling at him. "Did you make them?" he asked her in an amused voice.

She nodded quickly. "After that, Lauren threw me out, though. She asked me to bring the food out here instead, at least until she had more than enough finished."

Kurt smiled at the girl, picking up one of the cookies and taking a bite. He closed his eyes, humming as he savoured the flavour of it.

"Brittany," he sighed, "you never fail me. These are _heavenly_."

Brittany beamed, taking Kurt's hand in her own. "I'm so glad!" After a moment, however, her face fell when Kurt didn't take another lumboll, or anything else, instead sighing and frowning at the table. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"Oh, sweetheart, no," he told her quickly. "I'm just a little distracted."

"What is it?" she asked, concerned.

"Blaine," he said, a little unsure, "the new stablehand.. Have you encountered him, yet?"

Brittany shook her head. "I saw him earlier with Nick and Jeff, but I didn't have the chance to properly meet him."

Kurt opened his mouth again, about to speak. However, he was interrupted by a hand on his injured arm, causing him to noticeably flinch.

"There's no need for you to converse with a mere peasant," the man said coldly, and Kurt's heart sunk at the realisation of who it was. "Get back to your job, you—"

"_Stop it, now_," Kurt bit out, glaring up at Karofsky, though he didn't seem to notice the small boy's contempt.

"I need to have a word with his highness," Karofsky told Brittany, who was still looking hurt. Kurt attempted to reach out to her, but Karofsky was holding him flush to his side, and the pain in his arm was making it impossible for him to even really _think_ about moving. "Get back to the kitchens, already."

Brittany hung her head, running back through the kitchen doors, shattering Kurt's heart in the process and causing his hatred for the commander to grow.

Karofsky smiled in an awful, crooked way at Kurt now. "Much better," he said.

"You had no right to do that," Kurt said flatly.

"I'm only look out for you," the young man said. "Conversing so freely and comfortably with peasants and commoners... What would everyone think?"

"What do you want?" Kurt asked furiously.

Karofsky took a step back from the prince, bowing low. "May I have this dance, your highness?"

Without waiting for an answer, Karofsky pulled Kurt in close, and they joined the other couple dancing, Kurt reluctantly doing so. He was clutching to Kurt so tightly, and he found himself trying his best to ignore the searing pain in his arm.

"What do you want from me, David?" he asked vehemently.

"I have a proposition, actually," Karofsky said. "As I have been promoted, and you are next in line to be king, I thought that I might be of some aid to you."

"And how is that?"

"Things are said throughout the kingdom," the commander said. "Concerns, if you will, about what kind of person is going to be taking the throne."

Kurt swallowed, feeling his stomach drop. He mentally repeated over and over that _no_, Karofsky wasn't referring to what he thought he was.

"But we can fix that," he continued. "I'd be happy to... _show you around a sword._"

Kurt's eyes narrowed at the emphasis Karofsky put on the words, but chose to ignore it. "And what would you be getting out of this?"

He smiled awfully. "Why, I'd be spending more time with the prince, of course."

"Yes, well," Kurt said coldly, "no thank you."

Karofsky raised his eyebrows. "And may I ask why?"

"Because the idea of you helping me is one I'd rather not dwell on," Kurt said.

"You'd rather just turn a blind eye to what everyone says—to your own kingdom?" Karofsky asked. "Maybe not everyone notices it yet, but you think that they won't see it? And then what will they think?"

Kurt glared at him, his jaw set, trying to keep his breathing calm. He wouldn't let him know what he was doing to him, just how much he was getting into his head. Not here, not now.

"_I_ see it," Karofsky went on, curling his lips into an awful half-smile. "I see it all. The fact that you won't go into battle, always in your room with your literature and your music instead, caring more about what you eat and what you wear than most anyone can even _fathom_. Your oaf of a brother must have told you the implications that are made, when he comes to train _without_ the other crowned prince, that maybe you're a delicate _princess_ in actuality—"

"Stop it right now!" Kurt threatened, his heart pounding in his throat.

"My apologies," Karofsky breathed, his insincerity clear.

And with those words, Kurt turned on his heel, storming out of the hall. Immediately there was a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around. He found himself facing Finn, the boy who _knew_, who _knew_ what they were saying about him, who told him _nothing_, who obviously had done nothing—

"Kurt, what—"

"_You. _Don't you dare touch me!" Kurt snapped, swatting Finn's hand away and continuing out of the grand hall.

Finn frowned watching his step-brother walk off angrily.

A gentle hand touched the prince's arm, and Finn turned. He smiled softly at the girl who stood before him.

"Lady Rachel," he breathed.

"Your highness," she smiled in return, curtseying gracefully. "I do hope I am not overstepping my boundaries in inquiring if everything is quite all right."

Finn hesitated. "I seem to have done something wrong by Kurt," he said. "And I don't have the slightest idea of what."

Rachel looked sympathetically at the boy before her. "Your highness, if I may—"

Finn took her hand, pressing a swift kiss to the back of it. "Please, Rachel, you know the formalities aren't necessary."

The girl's cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink. "Finn," she said, smiling broadly. "I just thought that—"

But she cut herself off, glancing over her shoulder to where the young boy was gazing. She caught sight of a beautiful young woman, her blonde hair in a knot on the base of her neck. She was conversing with one of the knights in the kingdom, her expression caught somewhere between disapproval and amusement.

Finn quickly realised that Rachel had stopped talking, directing his attention back to the young baroness. "My apologies, Rachel, I—"

But Rachel quickly shook her head, busying herself instead with the hem of her sleeve. "Princess Quinn is beautiful, as always," she said softly. "You should go talk to her."

"Rachel..." Finn began, but she shook her head again.

"You should see the way she looks at you in return," she said, forcing a sad smile.

Finn placed a hand on her arm, his eyes pleading. "This is so difficult," he said.

"Then don't let it be," Rachel responded. "You're a prince, and she's a princess. You shouldn't be letting a lowly baroness stand in the way, anyway. I might not be a commoner, but—well, I'm not _her_, either."

Finn looked at her sadly. He wanted desperately to tell her that she was not standing in the way of anything, that it was all him and his inability to figure out just what it was that he wanted. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was as well, that she didn't need to be like Quinn. Yet he couldn't translate what he wanted to say into words, couldn't even open his mouth properly. Because he was confused and he was hurting the poor girl, he knew, and he couldn't bear it.

"She just..."

"No," Rachel cut in, "I understand the appeal."

Finn wished more than anything he could iterate what he wanted to, but it was proving itself impossible.

"I have to go," she said quickly, still refusing to look at the prince. Instead, she swept herself out of the hall, once again leaving Finn by himself; however, this time he knew exactly what he'd done wrong.


	4. Chapter Three

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
by crystallicrain  
****in collaboration with cacell**

**Notes:** Sorry for the wait, guys! Life has been crazy for both of us. But here's chapter three, so enjoy!

Chapter art links found in profile.

* * *

"You and Lady Rachel seemed to be speaking rather intently."

Finn turned, finding himself face-to-face with the blond princess. He smiled lopsidedly. "I might say the same about you and Puck."

She laughed. "He's completely uncivilized," she said haughtily.

"You still seemed rather interested," Finn said a little uncomfortably.

Quinn shook her head. "If you must know, we were talking about Commander Karofsky's promotion," she said. "He's under the impression that he isn't as deserving as some appear to think."

"He's not the only one," Finn murmured. "Whatever my stepfather was thinking—no disrespect to him, of course, but Karofsky is so _ruthless_."

"So I heard from Puck." Quinn allowed herself a small smile. "But can you honestly tell me that you would rather be speaking about Puck and Karofsky, right now?" she asked. "I was under the impression that perhaps you and I could spend our time together tonight in other ways."

The boy's crooked grin returned to his face. "May I have this dance, then?" he asked her, holding out his hand.

She laughed, taking his hand and smiling beautifully at him. "But of course, your highness."

* * *

Kurt closed his eyes tightly, hiding his face in Elizabeth's neck, holding her close to him. He tried to steady his breathing. He wished his mother there with him, she was always one of his greatest protectors...

He wished more than anything that he could dismiss the comments Karofsky made. He wished he could write them off, but instead Karofsky had managed to crawl under his skin and settle there, in the most unwelcome way. He was there, and he was torturing him, and it killed Kurt.

And he knew, he _knew_ Karofsky was right, because he'd never say a word to his father. He couldn't stand the idea that he might only disappoint him.

Kurt heard the sound of footsteps and he turned, watching as the new stableboy rounded the corner, a rake in his hand, resting over his shoulder. He hesitated.

"I'm sorry for intruding, your highness," he said softly, inclining his head and setting the rake back against the wall. Kurt said nothing in response, turning his attention back to Elizabeth.

"I... I also beg your forgiveness for what happened earlier today, sire," Blaine went on, now approaching the young prince.

Kurt shook his head. "It's fine," he said quietly. "I was more concerned about Elizabeth. My mother promised me her, just after she was born. If she hadn't been found..." He trailed off.

"Her majesty was very kind for giving me work," Blaine told him.

"She's not my mother," Kurt said quickly, still focusing on Elizabeth, rubbing his hand over her muzzle. "My mother fell ill shortly after Elizabeth was born. When she became mine, I gave her my mother's name. I... she's all I have left of her."

"I'm very sorry," Blaine said, under his breath. He was beside Kurt, now, looking at the prince sadly.

Kurt laughed somberly. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this," he muttered, glancing at the stablehand. He straightened up, now facing Blaine, who was still quiet, though his hand was also resting on Elizabeth's neck.

"You've never really worked with horses, have you?" Kurt asked a little suddenly, and Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but the other boy merely smiled in a very subdued sort of way. "They like to swell their stomachs when they're being prepared to ride, to make sure the saddle isn't uncomfortably tight on them. That often makes the saddle horribly loose, though, and—well, you saw what happens. I would have hoped one of the other stablehands might have mentioned it, but obviously not."

Blaine nodded; then, he felt the brush of warm fingers against his own, his heart stopping. Kurt froze, his hand still on Elizabeth, but staring at the other boy.

"I'm expected back," he breathed, withdrawing his hand as though it had been burned. He quickly walked past the other boy, who watched after him.

Kurt hesitated at the entrance to the stable, then turned back to face Blaine once more. "I'm going to be completely honest with you, Blaine," he said smoothly, having regained his composure at long last. "There are reasons some of our workers stay here much longer than others. Those that I've become fond of... I'll defend them to my father at just about any cost, no matter their mistake. But I have yet to find any reason to defend you, and my father is rarely so forgiving as my stepbrother and myself." He turned, leaving the young stableboy by himself.

Blaine rested his arm against the wall, breathing slowly as the prince left, a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. He pressed his forehead against his arm, unable to shake the feeling he'd been left with.

"What the hell—?"

Blaine's head snapped up, finding himself staring at Nick. The other stablehand frowned deeply at Blaine, setting a muck-filled bucket down on the stable floor.

"Do you not understand your job?" he asked.

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "What—?"

Nick placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "I don't mean for you to take any of this wrong," he told the shorter boy. "I think you're a very kind, intelligent fellow, but I'm afraid you _don't understand something, _Blaine."

Blaine swallowed hard. "And what would that be?" he asked hesitantly.

"We're _stablehands," _he said. "We're _commoners_."

"I understand that," Blaine mumbled. He passed Nick, grabbing a brush before letting himself into Elizabeth's stall; he busied himself with smoothing out the horse's mane, refusing to look at the boy reprimanding him.

"I don't think you do," Nick went on, leaning against the frame of the stall, his arms crossed against his chest. "Or do you not understand that he is a _prince_? Can you not see just how beneath him we are? Beside him, we're nothing."

"I didn't do anything inappropriate," Blaine said shortly, feeling his cheeks grow warm, his throat becoming unbearably tight. He repeated the sentence in his head a few times, as though trying to convince himself of the fact. Really—he'd done nothing wrong. Nick was just overreacting.

Nick shook his head. "Blaine, I'm saying this because I rather like you and would like to see you stay here. But if you want any hope of doing that, there is _no _way that you can look at _the prince... _like _that_."

Blaine stopped, the brush in his hand hovering just above Elizabeth, but he still would not look at Nick, staring intently at the horse in front of him.

"Please be careful," Nick said, and when Blaine finally looked up, he was gone. He released a breath he hadn't even noticed he had been holding. He threw the brush to the ground, settling himself on a bale of hay and hiding his face in his hands.

He cursed himself mentally. How could he let himself fall into this position? He had to put a stop to it immediately. If he could.

* * *

Puck slowly trudged to his quarters, feeling his body ache after spending the day practicing with the other knights. Certainly the celebration for the commander had been a nice respite, albeit a very short one. All the same, he was so ready to just undress, clean off, and get to sleep. And then tomorrow, he'd wake up and he would do it all over again.

He pressed open the door to his small room, sighing as he threw his gloves onto his nightstand, kicking off his boots.

He heard a small movement from the other side of his room and he froze, wishing his eyes would adjust more quickly to the dark. However, as he stared intently in the direction where the noise came from, a figure suddenly stepped forward just enough so that her face was bathed in the moonlight.

"Dear god," he breathed. "Santana, were you trying to scare me to death?"

The girl before him smiled slyly, her arms folded across her chest. "Oh no," she said smoothly. "If you were to die, that would certainly be a pity."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Do you mind? I'd like to get undressed."

Again the girl smirked at him. "You've never been shy before," she said silkily, but it only earned another glare.

"Would you just get out?" he asked.

"So rude," she told him coolly.

"What is it that you want, Santana?" he asked, his frustration growing.

"I saw you," she said bluntly. "Talking to that stupid princess at the party."

"Quinn?"

"Yes," she said, pursing her lips as though she'd bitten a lemon, "_Quinn_."

"And?" he asked her, raising his eyebrows.

"And?" she asked him coldly. "You think you can just come in and sweep precious little Quinn off her feet? You think that you can make her fall in love with you and you can run away? Is that when you get to live happily for the rest of your life? Because I'll be honest with you, Puck, that's not what happens."

She stepped forward, her voice low and dangerous. "Do you want to know what really happens? What you get in the end, and myself as well?" she went on. "You and I both live here for the rest of our lives, you as a knight, me as a maid. And one day you'll go out to battle and you'll never return, and I'll probably fall ill and waste away because I'll never have the gold to properly take care of myself. But then again, neither will you. And maybe that's not exactly how it falls into place, but whatever it is that kills us, one thing is certain, and that's the fact that you and I are both going to die alone."

Puck stared uneasily at her, and she shook her head, dropping her arms to her sides. "We don't get the same endings as the boys and girls in the stories our mothers told as when we tried to fall asleep. You and I die young and unhappy and alone, because of the kind of people we are."

"I get it," Puck shot at her. "We're not good people. Maybe we're not _bad,_ but certainly not good. Because what we did before? How we constantly made our living? We cheated and we stole and we lied—"

"_Lie_," she corrected. "We're never going to be able to stop lying."

"You don't understand it," he said. "That's not who I am anymore, Santana. I'm not a conman anymore, I'm a _knight_. And you—you're a maid. _This_ is us now. We were lucky enough that we were able to escape—we escaped your imprisonment, and my _death_. And I'm sorry if now I'm lucky enough to have a slightly better status as 'knight', and you're a servant. It's just how things worked themselves."

Santana shook her head. "No, you're the one who doesn't understand," she told him. "We were in this together, from the very beginning. You don't just get to come here now, after all that we went through, after all that I gave up and let go. You can't just forget everything, forget me—"

"Why not?" he shouted. He knew he shouldn't knew that losing his temper only led to bad things with Santana, but he'd finally had enough.

Her eyes narrowed. "I know the truth, Puck, and I'm not afraid of telling that god damn perfect _princess_ just who you really are," she said. "You're not going to get your stupid happy ending because I'm sure as hell not going to let you."


	5. Chapter Four

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
by crystallicrain  
****in collaboration with cacell**

**Notes:** Oh hey, two different updates in one day. Enjoy. ;D

Chapter art links found in profile.

* * *

Finn drew the back of his hand slowly across his forehead, wiping the sweat off his brow. He leaned heavily against the hilt of his sword. He was breathing heavily, feeling exhausted from the day of training and watching as two of the other knights practiced combat, their swords clanging together loudly.

"Too exhausting for you?" came a sneering voice, and Finn frowned.

"I've been out here twice as long as you, Karofsky," he said coolly. "You still have work to do before you can even consider taking a break."

"I'm heading this section of his majesty's army now," Karofsky said. "I decide who can take a rest and who can't."

Finn squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw. "Just get away, wouldn't you?"

"Did I offend you?" Karofsky jeered. "You're almost as sensitive as the little princess sitting up in the study all day."

Finn looked at him in utter confusion. "Princess..?" he repeated, not understanding.

Karofsky's lips turned into a cruel smile. "He seemed pretty upset last night when I mentioned that's how the other knights refer to him," he said matter-of-factly.

Suddenly the pieces seemed to fit together in Finn's head. _Kurt_.

This was what had upset Kurt so much last night—and honestly, he could see why. He hated Karofsky for even mentioning the idea to the boy. He didn't have the right to, and it was obvious that, as he constantly trained as well, responsibility to stop it had been placed on him.

But despite knowing that it had to be put to a stop, he didn't have the faintest idea of how to actually go about doing so. He knew these men, and he knew it wasn't an easy thing to do...

He straightened up. "If you have any sense at all," he spat at the commander, "you'll stop talking right now."

The commander merely continued to smile as he walked away from the prince, as though pleased with the problems he was causing. Finn buried his face in his arms, still crossed over his sword. He knew it wasn't the solution to everything, but he just hoped it would be an adequate start.

* * *

Blaine looked up at the entrance of the stable, seeing a hesitant figure entering. He smiled, recognising the blond from the kitchens, and he straightened himself, brushing off his knees.

"Hello," he smiled at her, and almost immediately Jeff and Nick popped out of their respective stalls.

"I have some spinach tarts and biscuits," she said warmly. "I didn't see any of you when I brought out dinner for the other workers, and I thought I should offer something before it's gone."

"Thank you," said Blaine.

The reactions of Nick and Jeff were immediate, both quickly grasping the treats from the girl, eating as though they hadn't in days—though, of course, Blaine knew this to be untrue, as they had each had a rather large breakfast that morning. The moment they retreated, settling themselves on a bale of hay, Blaine stepped forward and took one of the tarts.

"My name is Brittany," she told him. "Yours is Blaine, right?" He nodded. "Do you like it here, Blaine?"

The stablehand laughed. "I'm lucky to have found anywhere that will take me," he said to her. "But I can't pretend it hasn't been a hard first couple of days."

She nodded understandingly. "I have a lot of hard days," she said. "I love to bake, but I make a lot of mistakes and messes. But Prince Kurt is very kind to me, and he always makes sure that I'm still here at the end of the day."

Blaine looked at her thoughtfully. "The Prince is fond of you, then?" he asked, remembering what he had mentioned the night before.

"Oh, yes!" she said, beaming, breaking apart one of the cakes for herself. "And I'm fond of him, as well."

Blaine shook his head. "I think he rather dislikes me," he confided, and he felt a strange sensation in his stomach at the very thought.

"Oh, I don't think that's true," she said immediately. "Prince Kurt doesn't like only one person."

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "May I ask who that is?"

"The new commander," she told him. "David Karofsky. But he doesn't really ever say why, even to myself or his chambermaid, Mercedes. And they're _very_ close."

"You don't have any inkling?" Blaine asked, frowning.

Brittany shook her head. "He doesn't treat any of us very well, but..."

"But it seems like more?"

"I suppose if it was anything serious, he wouldn't hide it, though," she said thoughtfully. "He is very smart and—_oh!_" Brittany clapped her hands to her mouth, looking just in front of the boy.

Blaine looked at his feet, where a small dog had appeared, his mouth open, tongue hanging out. He cocked his head at Blaine, and the stableboy laughed.

"Is he yours?" Brittany asked.

"No," Blaine said, offering one of the remaining biscuits to the pup. "Come on, take it, boy," he urged, holding it right in front of his nose, though he continued to sniff it distrustingly.

"One biscuit left," he heard Nick mumble.

"It's mine," Jeff responded immediately.

"Are you kidding?" came Nick's voice again. "You didn't do the slightest bit as much as I did today—"

"And who covered for you before Blaine got here, when you were too damn lazy to get out of bed?"

"I was _sick_—"

"Sick my left—"

"Fine!" said Nick, exasperated. "We wrestle for it?"

Almost immediately Jeff pushed Nick to the stable floor, Nick trying his best to push the other boy back off of him and get the upper hand. Blaine quickly whisked the dog into his arms, keeping him out of the way of the chaos.

Again Blaine held out the biscuit to the dog, and he quickly began tearing it apart. He struggled against Blaine's arms, snatching up the other biscuit and eating it as well before licking Blaine's hands. The stableboy laughed, ruffling the dog's fur.

"Are you going to keep him?" Brittany asked. "He seems to really like you. Just be careful."

"Careful?" Blaine asked, looking at the girl.

"Well, I'm not sure if they can read like cats can," she deadpanned, and Blaine's eyebrows shot up, "but Kurt left one of his books out once, and—"

There was a shout of "_yes_!" and their heads snapped up.

Jeff bent over panting, his hands resting on his knees, Nick just as breathless, flat on his back. The blonde looked triumphant, but his face fell when he noticed the empty basket resting between Blaine and Brittany.

He let out a noise of disappointment, sounding rather like a small child. "Where'd the last biscuit go?"

* * *

Santana tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she peered at herself in the mirror. She gently tugged at the ponytail on the back of her head, keeping the dark locks out of her face.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Santana didn't even bother turning around, continuing to adjust her hair in the reflection before her. "What does it look like I'm doing?" she asked in response.

Mercedes marched into the room, placing herself right beside Santana. "What I mean to say is," she said smoothly, her arms folded across her chest, "why aren't you doing your work right now?"

Santana straightened up, mirroring Mercedes. "It's getting done."

"By _Thad," _Mercedes responded with a look of disbelief. "He's not even a servant—he's training to be an _advisor to the king._"

"I know," Santana replied.

Mercedes shook her head. "Do I even want to ask how you managed that?"

Santana smirked. "I have my ways," she said silkily.

Again Mercedes shook her head, pointing a warning finger at the girl. "_Go,_" she said. "Go downstairs and tell Thad to get back to his work, and you get back to your own."

"And if I don't?" Santana asked heatedly, her pleased expression long gone.

"I tell his majesty," Mercedes said simply, shrugging one shoulder.

"Fine," the girl huffed. "But you wait until I find something just as unpleasant about you." She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.

She passed Kurt in the doorway, the prince's eyebrows raised.

"She seems like a lovely person," he said dryly, earning an exasperated smile from the other maid.

"She's certainly something," she sighed. "Good looks will only get you so far."

"Well, you can revel in the fact that she won't be able win me over with her powers of seduction," Kurt offered with a wry smile, and the girl laughed.

Finn hesitantly knocked on the open door, and the two looked up at him.

"I wanted to apologise," Finn said, but Kurt didn't respond. Mercedes glanced between them before excusing herself, and Kurt nonchalantly picked up a book from the shelf, flipping through its pages.

Finn took a deep breath. "I figured it out."

"Congratulations," Kurt said. "I'm sure everyone will be very proud of you."

Finn sighed. "I need you to believe me," he said slowly and deliberately, "that I didn't know. I didn't know that they were saying these things about you. Whenever I heard something, I never thought it was about—I mean, I thought because you're the _prince—_well, it gives them no right—"

Kurt snapped the book shut. "Stop," he said, closing his eyes and taking a deep, steadying breath. He then looked softly at Finn. "I understand. Really, it's... it's fine."

"It isn't fine."

Kurt allowed himself a small smile. "No," he said, "it isn't."

"I won't let it happen again," Finn said quickly, a little awkward and hesitant. "I mean, I'll do anything that I can—"

"Finn?" Kurt's smile suddenly became very warm and genuine. "Thank you. It means the world to me."


	6. Chapter Five

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
by crystallicrain  
in collaboration with cacell**

**Notes:** Here you are, loves! Enjoy. And those of you asking about the Klaine? Soon, I promise. Just _wait_ for next few chapters.. (oh, I'm such a tease.)

As always, links to the art is in my profile.

* * *

Quinn looked up at the knock on her door. She smiled at the boy before her.

"You have a gentleman caller, your highness," he said with a quick, small bow.

"Thank you, Matt," she said softly. "Would you lead him in?"

The boy nodded, and turned out of the room; his presence was replaced just a few moments later as Finn walked into the sitting room.

"Hello, Finn," she smiled, gesturing to the chair opposite her. "Please, take a seat."

He settled himself across the princess. "You look beautiful," he said simply, earning a small embarrassed grin from her.

"Well, thank you," she said with a laugh. "You're very charming yourself. You weren't silly enough to come all this way just to tell me that, though, were you?"

He flashed a lopsided grin. "No," he said quickly. "I just wanted to see you. I had such a fantastic time with you the other evening."

"As did I," she said, grasping his hand in her own. "How would you fancy a walk?"

He agreed, and the couple made their way outside, the bright sun warming their skin as they walked along the garden path.

"I'm glad you came," she told him, and he squeezed her hand.

"I have to admit that your home wasn't quite what I expected for a princess," he said. "It's beautiful, of course, but..."

"But you expected a castle?" she asked him quietly, a tinge of embarassment.

"Well, honestly, yes," he said, not understanding her sudden change in tone. "Did you come to live here after the death of your father, or—?"

She looked down at her feet. "No," she said softly. "My mother and I ran away from my father about a year ago. I know that I probably should have brought that up to you before, but it's rather mortifying, to go from a princess, an only child and next in line for the throne, to escaping the man my father was, coming here and becoming all but a commoner."

"You're still a princess by blood," he said.

"Yes," she said, "but I have no power, no throne. Certainly I have the money and the title, but it means very little when you've lost everything like I have."

"I'm very sorry," he told her.

She looked away. "I really hoped you'd never have to find out. I hate my father, but I hate what's happened to my mother and myself even more. I wanted more than anything to be queen. I really did. I still have this hope that somehow I can still find a way to return to that name and status. Instead, I'm just nothing."

Finn stopped, cupping her face in his hands. "You're not nothing," he said. "I think you're something, and that something is wonderful and beautiful. You don't need to be a queen, Quinn."

She looked disbelieving. "But it's what I want," she whispered. "It's all that makes other royalty like you desire to be with me."

"No," he told her. "I still want you more than anything."

Her eyes were still unsure, but Finn leaned in close to her, kissing her deeply, his hands still planted on either side of her face.

* * *

Blaine smiled down at the stray, dubbed Wesley by Jeff and Nick after he'd returned for the third night in a row. The small dog was curled up in the doorway of the stall while Blaine tended to Elizabeth, his head resting quietly in his paws. Though the dog was rarely around by day, he returned every night while Blaine groomed Elizabeth and cleaned the stables, following him to bed to have a slightly warmer place to sleep, curling up on Blaine's feet in the small quarters he shared with the other two stablehands.

Suddenly, Wesley let out a low growl, just hardly audible, and Blaine turned his direction to the dog questioningly. He walked over to him, crouching down beside him. "What is it, Wes?" he asked, but the dog continued staring just beyond Blaine.

The stablehand turned, realising as he did so that he could distinctly hear voices.

"I don't look highly upon lying, Dave."

_Kurt_. Blaine could easily recognise the boy's voice. He stilled himself, trying his hardest to hear each word.

"I was not aware it was untrue," came another voice. "I wasn't aware that his highness your brother was so completely daft—"

"_Stop_," Kurt urged. "Finn might not be the brightest but he's kind and generous, and he's sworn to put a stop the idiots who hurt and insult me like—"

"Like _who_, your highess?"

"_Don't touch me, Karofsky_," Kurt snarled. "Get—_off—of—me—_**"**

In seconds Blaine was on his feet, running to the entrance of the stables. He saw Karofsky pinning the prince angrily against the wall, angry colour in his face, the smaller boy pushing at the commander. Immediately Blaine shoved the larger boy away.

Karofsky stared at Blaine with an expression of utter disbelief. "What—?"

"His highness told you not to touch him," Blaine said boldly, breathing hard. He couldn't imagine where his sudden courage had come from as Karofsky stared down at him, substantially shorter than the commander. He swallowed, trying to keep his ground.

Karofsky was about to advance on the stablehand when he shouted in pain, and Blaine's surprise was obvious. He quickly noticed Wesley, teeth sunk into the commander's leg, growling and snarling at him.

When at last Karofsky freed his leg from the dog's grasp, he was breathing heavily, staring at Blaine, a look filled with contempt.

"That rotten mutt—"

"Get out, Karofsky," Kurt breathed, barely audible. The commander shot him an angry glance before turning on his heel, limping down the pathway between the castle and the stables.

Minutes crept by, the two boys still breathless, the tension heavy in the air. At last, Blaine turned to the prince, giving a short, anxious bow. "I apologise, your highness," he said softly.

He looked expectantly at Kurt, but the prince remained silent. After several moments, the stablehand turned to leave, but Kurt reached out to him.

"Wait," he said softly, suddenly. "I—" he paused, biting his lip. "Thank you."

Blaine smiled. "Anything for you, sire."

* * *

"What a _good dog_!" Jeff praised Wesley, holding the pup in his arms. "Biting that git? You are _such a good dog_."

Blaine sighed, his arms folded across his chest. "I completely stepped out of my place again," he sighed, and Jeff simply stared at him.

"Did the prince scold you for it?" he asked.

"Well, no—"

"Did he go to his majesty, the king?" Nick asked in turn, petting the dog that was still in his friend's arms.

"No, he didn't—"

Jeff asked, "Are you in the stocks—"

"Or the dungeon," Nick cut in, and Jeff nodded.

"_Or _the dungeon?" he agreed, handing the dog to the darker-haired boy.

"Well, _no_—"

"Then why are you complaining?" Nick asked.

Blaine sighed, sitting on an overturned bucket. "I'm not accustomed to this," he said frustratedly. "I'm not used to having to watch what I say and do because I'm in such close proximity with the royal family."

Jeff crouched across from Blaine. "Just because he's _royalty_," he said calmly, "doesn't mean that he isn't human."

"He certainly seems to think he isn't," Blaine sighed.

"He is human," Nick clarified, setting Wesley on the ground and walking over to the conversing boys, "but he's also nobility. It's a fine line that many have trouble grasping."

"But you certainly helped him out," Jeff continued. "If that good-for-nothing commander was harassing him like you said, then you did the right thing in stepping in."

"Especially then," Nick said. "Don't see it as stepping into the prince's personal business, but as _saving_ the prince."

"I didn't save him," Blaine muttered.

"Are you serious?" Jeff asked, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, I know it's not proper to talk about the prince, but to say that nobody ever has would be a lie—not that what we say is bad," he quickly amended, seeing Blaine's face. "But you know, we are workers and servants and we are everywhere in this castle. We always manage to see something and, well... it's far from the first time that Karofsky has started crossing the line."

"Really?" Blaine asked. "I mean, what Brittany said the other day—"

"That isn't even the half of it," Nick said. "I've heard from her and Mercedes some brief happenings, but Lauren and Thad and the others have seen things as well."

"Why hasn't anything been said?" Blaine inquired furiously. "If this is a reoccurring—"

"Because Karofsky is smart," Jeff cut in. "Maybe not brilliant, but he knows when he's close to seriously crossing any line. He still knows that he is beneath the prince and he can get in a lot of trouble if anything is seen rather than heard. But honestly it's just comments and raised voices and the moment he is even close to doing something that could get himself in trouble, he stops and the apologises to his highness."

Blaine sighed. "Why is he doing this anyway?"

Jeff shrugged. "Nobody's really certain."

"I just think he's an arse," Nick bit out.

"But to target the prince?" Jeff commented, raising an eyebrow, and Nick shrugged his shoulders, so the boy turned to Blaine instead. "I mean, I can't say that I'm fond of Karofsky, but don't you ever just think that there's more to the story?"

It was Blaine's turn to shrug. "Honestly, shoving him off the prince was the first time we met, if you could call it that," he said soberly. "I can't pretend that it was the finest first impression."

"You're one to talk," Nick said with a grin, and Blaine shot him a nasty look.

"To be fair," Jeff said, though he was grinning as well, "we should have actually taught him something before running off and leaving the stables in his hands. Then he might not have made an arse of himself."

"I think he still would have managed it," Nick teased.

Blaine glared at the boys. "Thank you so much for your undying confidence in me."


	7. Chapter Six

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
by crystallicrain  
in collaboration with cacell**

**Notes:** Here it is, guys, nice and fast! Hope you like it - some actual Klaine... (;

Sonnets 18 and 51 belong to Shakespeare, and blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to _Ella Enchanted_.

Also, a reminder that the art isn't by me, it's by the lovely Cacell! However, I have been passing along all compliments to her. D

* * *

With every passing day, Kurt found himself visiting the stables more and more. At first, it had taken Blaine by surprise, and he'd made a constant effort to ensure that Elizabeth was ready for riding. However, he quickly noticed that despite Kurt's more frequent visits, he was riding less, more often bringing a book to study and just settling himself in the corner.

Once, when Blaine settled himself across from the Prince, taking a moment to drink some water and cool himself down before getting back to work, Prince Kurt broke the silence.

"_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?_" Kurt read, and Blaine looked up at him with curiosity. "_Thou art more lovely and more temperate; rough winds do shake the darling bugs of May, and summer's lease hath all too short a date."_ Kurt looked up at Blaine, giving him a small smile.

"That's beautiful," he said.

"It's Shakespeare," Kurt responded. "Have you never read him?"

Blaine's cheeks reddened. "I... I can't..."

"Oh," Kurt said quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't..." He trailed off. "He's really wonderful."

"He seems like it."

"I could read you more if you like," Kurt offered hesitantly, and Blaine smiled.

"Certainly," he responded.

After that brief moment, the days Kurt spent hiding away in the stables changed.

When Kurt found himself particularly bold one day, he settled himself painfully close to the other boy, their shoulders and knees touching. He smoothed out the page between them, running his finger beneath the text, reading the words out loud as he did so.

Kurt tried to ignore the way his heart would flutter strangely when the stableboy would place his hand over his, his signal to let him try instead, and Blaine would make an awkward attempt to sound out the words before repeating them with confidence. But it was so easy to convince himself that it was merely his pleasure and pride in successfully passing on his own knowledge.

"_Since from thee going, he went wilful-slow,_" Kurt recited one late afternoon. "_Towards thee I'll run, and give—_"

Blaine grasped Kurt's hand, the prince's breath hitching slightly as he did so. "_And give... him... l-leave.. to go_."

Kurt smiled at the boy. "You've been practicing more than just with me," he said a little teasingly.

Blaine grinned for a fleeting moment, then frowned slightly. "I hope I'm not overstepping, sire," he said hesitantly, "but I think that it would be best if you told his majesty about what happened with Commander Karofsky."

Kurt froze, his face paling. It was something that they hadn't discussed since the evening it occurred, something that they had merely pretended hadn't really happened. But now, it was being dug up once again and Kurt felt his stomach churning in a much less pleasant and far more apprehensive way. "I... I can't," he said.

"But your highness," Blaine pressed on, only growing more concerned, "suppose that he _should_ try something more."

Kurt shook his head. "Honestly, you don't understand," he said under his breath. "I cannot tell my father."

"But you're not _safe_," Blaine continued. "Certainly it's only been mild harassment thus far, but—"

"I can't!" Kurt snapped, and suddenly Blaine noticed how quickly the prince was breathing. He let out a slow breath, placing a shaky hand to his forehead. "I'm sorry, Blaine, I—" He bit his lip. "You have to believe me that I cannot tell him."

"But why?" Blaine asked in a small voice.

Kurt looked to the ground, raking his hand through his hair before finally resting it over his mouth. "He... he's fallen ill," he whispered.

Blaine hesitantly reached out to the prince, grasping the boy's hand in his own. He quickly tried to think of something—_anything _he might be able to say to possibly comfort the prince, but all words were eluding him. Instead, he settled for gently stroking the back of Kurt's hand with his thumb.

"It isn't good," Kurt continued breathlessly. "Honestly, it's quite awful. They've called in so many people to try to take care of him, but..." He swallowed.

"I'm so sorry," Blaine told him, though he knew the words carried little meaning. He looked sadly at the boy.

"It's just.. he can't do this_,_" Kurt said. "He can't abandon me. After my mother died he _promised_ me that he'd be here to take care of me and protect me and—dear god, how the hell am I supposed to help run the kingdom if he—if—"

"It will be all right," Blaine told him softly, and Kurt desperately nodded in agreement, as though if trying to convince himself the very same thing. "And I'm sure that your father created a plan long ago, just in case something should ever happen to him. And there is no reason to assume you'd suddenly be alone," Blaine continued hesitantly, and Kurt turned to stare at him. "Your stepmother is a wonderful woman, and I've seen her treat you like her own son. Not to mention your brother, and—" Blaine cut off, the colour in his cheeks rising.

"And?" Kurt urged softly.

"Well," Blaine began a little awkwardly, "there are many in the castle who care about you and would do anything for you, your status aside." Kurt smiled softly at him, and he felt his face growing even warmer. "You must know that. There's Mercedes and Brittany and—"

"And you?" Kurt asked in a small voice.

Blaine swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat, feeling his heart race as Kurt squeezed his hand. "And me," he said breathlessly.

There were a few moments of silence, when Blaine desperately played the last few seconds over and over in his head. His stomach was doing somersaults while Kurt stared at their hands, interlacing their fingers. Again Blaine wished for something he could say to the prince.

"You're lucky to have a father who loves you so much," he said gently after several moments.

Kurt nodded, directing his attention back to his knees. "Is your father...?"

Blaine shook his head. "Oh no, he's very much alive," he responded with distinct bitterness. "He's the reason I'm here right now."

Kurt looked curiously at the boy. "I..." he started hesitantly, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Blaine sighed. "My father and I never really got on well," he said.

"And your mother?" Kurt asked.

The stableboy shrugged. "You know as well as I do that there isn't much she can do without serious repercussions," Blaine said. "But she did what she could for me. I never had any real hope for my father to approve of me, though."

"Why not?"

Blaine smiled wryly at the prince. "To him, it's a sin," he said softly, withdrawing his hand and tucking a curl behind his ear, "to be as I am, to think and feel as I do."

"And what would that be?" Kurt inquired. The question hung in the air for several moments, and Kurt almost regretted asking, regretted pushing the boy to tell him more than he obviously was prepared and willing to say. He opened his mouth to apologize, but instead he heard the stablehand's voice.

"To prefer the company of a man," he said at last, so softly that Kurt almost didn't hear him.

Again the silence was heavy between them, and Blaine feared that he had said too much. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, shaking his head. "It was inappropriate for me to admit, I apologise—"

"No," Kurt cut in, and the dark-haired boy looked back at him sheepishly. "That is—I..." He swallowed. "Well, you and I are very much alike."

"You mean to say—?"

Kurt let out a small laugh. "You seem so surprised," he said with a sheepish smile. "Most just make the assumption. They never say it, but..."

"But they know," Blaine offered, and Kurt nodded. "And your father?"

"I think he's always known," Kurt laughed, shaking his head. "But it still concerns me."

"How do you mean?"

Kurt swallowed. "Just because my father is accepting doesn't mean that everyone is," he said. "Many are far more like your father, and I'm afraid that it makes me unfit to be king."

"That's ridiculous," Blaine said immediately, but Kurt shook his head.

"It's the truth," he whispered roughly, turning away from the boy. Suddenly he was on his feet, and Blaine found himself missing the warmth of his body settled beside his. "I should go," he muttered, and immediately he was gone.

Blaine hid his face in his hands, an aching in his chest. After what felt like several long, aching moments (though it proved to only be a few brief seconds), he felt another body join his own. He lowered his hands, hoping desperately he'd see the prince again, but instead he found himself looking at a slender blond girl.

"I don't understand," she said. She was staring at Blaine, in confusion.

"What's that, Brittany?" he inquired in response, furrowing his brow.

"You look like you're very fond of him," she said simply. "Like you love him."

"Who?"

"Prince Kurt," she said. "I saw you talking with him. I wasn't eavesdropping, just looking, and, well... it looked like you love him."

Blaine opened his mouth, finding that there was no air in his lungs, making it impossible for him to speak. "I—" he stammered. "That is—I only just met him—"

Brittany nodded knowingly. "That's all right," she said. "You don't have to know someone very long to love them. And I know for a fact that it is very easy to love Prince Kurt."

Blaine swallowed hard. "It's a completely ridiculous idea."

"Why?" she asked, a look of utter bewilderment on her face.

"For many reasons," Blaine said, staring at his hands. "Despite the fact that we have the same preferences, the fact remains that we're both male—"

"His majesty wants Prince Kurt to be happy, no matter—"

"That's the other problem," Blaine pressed on sadly. "_Prince_ Kurt. He's very handsome, kind, and gentle, which I can see from his love for Elizabeth and you and the others—but me?" He sighed. "Anything romantic is impossible. I will most probably work in the stables until the day that I die, and any prince I've seen won't even get his hands dirty if he can help it. I can certainly tell that his highness is definitely one of those that refuses." He let out another sigh. "Beside all of that, there is still the matter that in no way does he see me as more than a fumbling stablehand, just some sort of project he can teach to read, but nothing more. Maybe in another world, at another time, there would be some sort of chance."

"You sound so certain," she said.

Blaine raised an eyebrow, staring at her. "Should I not be?" he asked.

"Well, if it's love—_real_ love—then it'll work itself out," she said simply. "Love _always_ finds its own way."

* * *

Brittany placed the tea tray on Kurt's desk, smiling brightly as she sat in the armchair beside it. The boy grinned at her in return, closing the book on his desk and sliding it out of the way.

"I'm so glad I found you," she said cheerily, and Kurt cocked his head slightly as he picked up a napkin, smoothing it across his lap. In turn she picked up the tea pot, first pouring a cup for the prince, then for herself. "The last few nights I came around and you weren't here or in your bedchamber."

"I'm sorry," he said, his smile faltering. She continued to look at him expectantly as she carefully sliced the pastry roll before them, setting a piece in front of each of them while Kurt desperately tried to come up with an explanation without actually explaining. After opening and closing his mouth several times, and Brittany tilted her head.

"Something's wrong," she stated plainly. "I don't understand why nobody will tell me."

He looked at her sadly, grasping her hand in his own. He stared at their hands as she tangled his fingers with his, trying to find an adequate place to begin, mentally sifting through which information he should share.

"My father's taken very ill," he said, still not meeting the girl's eyes. "It's a delicate matter, one that not many have been told, one that is definitely taking its effect."

"I'm so sorry," she said sincerely. Suddenly, her wide blue eyes brightened. "Once, I was told that if you include unicorn hair in your recipe for making soup, it can cure _anything_."

"Brittany," the boy said hesitantly. "I... I don't think that would be possible."

"You're right," she sighed, her face falling. "It's common knowledge that unicorns prefer the weather of the southern hemisphere."

Kurt opened his mouth to inform her the impossibility was actually due to the creatures' nonexistence, but finding that he wasn't sure how to break the news, settled instead for nodding in agreement. "Needless to say," he said at last, "I've been distracted."

"By Blaine?"

The words were so sudden, so innocent that Kurt nearly dropped his tea, feeling his heart pound slightly. He swallowed, trying to remain composed. "He's definitely contributed to it," he said slowly. "Blaine is... he's very lovely."

"I like him very much," Brittany said brightly, and Kurt smiled in turn, though he refused to make eye contact with the blond.

"As do I," Kurt admitted. Hesitantly, he looked up at the girl in front of him. "Actually, I think—I—I rather fancy him."


	8. Chapter Seven

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
by crystallicrain  
in collaboration with cacell**

**Notes:** I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! With exams and projects and moving and my 21st birthday, I haven't been able to post. But here you go, and expect the next one soon! (Cacell's working on the art now.. ;D)

* * *

Kurt felt as the harsh sunlight hit his face without its usual filtration through the curtains, waking him in a less-than-desirable manner. The prince squeezed his eyes even tighter, feeling his head pound and he let out a low groan. At first he struggled with hiding his face beneath his pillow, beneath his blankets, and really anything that could shield him from the horrendous sunlight that was disrupting his slumber.

After several fruitless minutes of attempting to fall back asleep, Kurt gave in, cracking one of his eyes open. He spotted Mercedes at the foot of his bed, leaning against one of the posts, her arms folded across her chest.

"Mercedes," he grumbled, throwing himself back against his pillow, his arms falling limply above his head, "What time is it? Can't I go back to sleep?"

"Oh no," she said. "We need to have a little conversation, I think."

"And if I refuse?" he asked grumpily.

The girl sighed, sitting at Kurt's feet. "I'm not approaching you as a prince, right now, sweetheart. I'm coming to you instead as your friend."

Kurt sighed, lifting himself up into a sitting position, waiting for Mercedes to continue.

"Brittany told me something very interesting while she was making breakfast for your parents," she said with a cool casualness that made Kurt's stomach flip. "Something about a certain stablehand."

"Oh," he murmured, the realisation sinking in at last. He searched for something else to say, but nothing came to mind.

"_Oh_," she repeated with a smirk and a quirked eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

"I, erm... I've been teaching him to read," he responded evasively.

"Hmm," she said, nodding. "And that's it, is it?"

He sighed. "No," he admitted, and he allowed himself a smile. "I fancy him, Mercedes. Part of me can't understand _why, _but..."

"These things don't have to make sense," she said, leaning in with a grin on her face.

"I know," he said. "I haven't ever met anyone like him, though. I can talk to him about things I've never been able to talk about, even with you. And he... _he's_ _like_ _me_."

"You mean to say he reciprocates?"

Kurt shook his head. "No," he said quickly. "Well, I don't really know. He could, but—"

"_Please_," she said with a laugh. "That boy doesn't look at you like he has stars in his eyes because you're the prince."

Kurt's cheeks turned a brilliant shade of crimson. "Yet the fact remains that I am indeed the prince," he said. "I don't mean to sound petty, but I have to consider status, don't I?"

"It's not unheard of," she told him.

"No," he agreed, "but for a future king?"

"We can't choose who we fall for, sweetheart," she told him soothingly. "Everyone wants a knight to ride in and rescue them, but that's a dream few are given the chance to realise. And coming from someone who cares deeply for you," she continued, "class and expectations should matter far less than your happiness."

Kurt smiled softly at Mercedes. "At least there's one person who feels that way," he said. "The rest of the kingdom, I'm not so certain."

"Well, I'm the only one that matters," she replied simply, earning a laugh.

"If only you were," he sighed, and she grasped his hand. "Instead, I have to do—and ultimately _be—_what the kingdom wants. And while I might be capable of getting away with choosing either a commoner or a man to rule beside me... I fear I'll only lose the respect of my subjects if I were to pursue someone that is both. In all likelihood I will enter a marriage only to appease them, or else simply die alone."

"But what about love?" she asked him sadly. "Sweetheart, there's nothing I want more than to see you happy and loved."

"I'm loved by you," he said, and she smiled, but shook her head.

"You know that isn't what I mean," she told him.

Kurt sighed. "I know."

They were silent for a moment, Kurt staring at the girl's hand on top of his, his other hand grasping at his blankets. "Will you make me a promise?" she asked him at last, and he looked up at her, nodding. "Don't forget about yourself and your happiness. Don't lose yourself for the sake of the kingdom."

* * *

Puck squinted in the sunlight, leaning against his sword, breathing heavily. He narrowed his eyes, doing his best to focus on the figure that was approaching.

Quickly he straightened himself, sliding his sword back into its sheath, making his way toward the girl himself.

"Princess Quinn," he said with a bow.

"I'm looking for Finn," she told him.

He frowned. "He's gone for the day."

"May I ask where?" she asked.

"To see Lady Rachel."

She scoffed. "Of _course _that's what he's doing," she said, her annoyance obvious. "How is it that she has such a hold on him?"

Puck smiled at the girl's reaction. "Do I detect jealousy?"

"Hardly," she responded. "Honestly, there is very little to be jealous of."

"Oh, I don't know about that," he told her. "She always means well, she has a beautiful voice, and she's rather attractive. Though, compared to you..."

She folded her arms across her chest. "Please," she said, rolling her eyes. "Don't try to charm me, Puck. I promise it won't work."

Puck shrugged his shoulders. "What is it that you see in Finn, anyway?"

Quinn raised her eyebrows. "I thought you were friends," she said.

"We are, but there isn't much there," he said, tapping his finger to his temple. "I may not be so smart either, but when I look at you, I feel as though you deserve far better than a daft prince."

"Ah," she responded with a smile, "you just mentioned one of the very reasons. He's a _prince_. Being with him, I'd be able to earn back respect."

"So that's all you care about?" Puck asked. "It's all about status?"

"No," she responded coolly. "He's very sweet. His position just makes it so much better."

Puck shook his head. "And now he's off with _Lady Rachel_," he said. "You don't think you ought to be treated better than that?"

"And who would treat me better?" she asked. "You? I heard from Kurt's chambermaid that you were off with Santana behind the stables last week."

"I'm not going to pretend I'm perfect," he told her. "But if I had someone like you on my arm, I wouldn't risk things the way that Finn is."

She straightened herself, eyeing Puck suspiciously. "Well, thank you," she said softly. "That's very... _kind_ of you."

"But of course," he said smoothly.

"Well, I'd better return to my mother," she said, still looking at the knight with unsure curiosity. "It was a pleasure to speak with you."

"The pleasure was all mine, your highness," he responded, bowing once more, and he watched her go.

* * *

Kurt froze, hearing the melody drifting from the stables. Taking a deep breath, he peered around the wall, cautiously glancing inside.

_Blaine._

Blaine _singing_.

Kurt quietly watched, trying to gather every word that left the stablehand's lips.

"_Oh thou pale orb that silent shines, while care-untroubled mortals sleep_," the young boy sang, gently brushing Elizabeth's coat as he did so, "_thou seest a wretch who inly pines and wanders here to wail and weep_.."

Kurt's heart pounded as he listened to the words Blaine was singing, desperately wondering if he intended their meaning, or if he'd simply chosen the song for its beautiful melody. He swallowed as Blaine paused, moving to the other side of the mare he was grooming, simply willing the stableboy to sing on.

"_With woe I nightly vigils keep, beneath thy wan, unwarming beam_," he continued moments later, "_and mourn in lamentation deep how life and love are all a dream_—"

His singing was cut off by barking, and Kurt's eyes widened as he realised that the dog that had taken to the stables had noticed his presence. He pressed himself flush against the side of the building, his heart beating too quickly and his legs lacking the feeling necessary for him to make an escape.

"Wes?" he heard Blaine ask. "What is it—did you see someone?"

Kurt took a deep breath, deciding that it might be better for him to simply come clean and reveal himself. He could easily make it seem as though he'd only just arrived, that he'd—

"Hello."

Kurt found himself face to face with the stablehand, and he was certain that the other boy could hear is own heart, with its deafening, racing speed.

"Hello," Kurt managed to reply in a breathy whisper.

"Were you... _watching_ me?" Blaine asked, an eyebrow raised.

"What?" Kurt responded. "Good heavens, no! Of course not! Why would... why would you think that?"

Blaine laughed, and Kurt relaxed at the idea that he was so amused. "You seem horribly guilty," he said with a smile.

"Suppose I was," Kurt said airily, and Blaine raised his eyebrows again. The prince sighed, folding his arms. "I... I heard you singing and, well, I didn't want to... interrupt." He brushed his hair off of his forehead. "It was beautiful, to be honest."

"Thank you, your highness—"

"Kurt," he said quickly, feeling his cheeks flush. "You can address me as Kurt. If you'd like, anyway."

The stablehand beamed at him. "Well, thank you, Kurt."

Kurt smiled sheepishly at him. "Do you have a lot of work?" he asked hesitantly, and he was certain that the other boy might hear his heart beating.

"Not much," Blaine responded. "I was just tending to Elizabeth."

Kurt nodded, licking his lips. "Have you ever been riding?"

"Only once or twice," Blaine said, now looking curiously at the prince.

"Would you like to?"

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "Would that be allowed?"

Kurt quickly nodded. "You could ride Finn's. He never really rides," he responded with a grin, though it quickly faltered. "If you wanted to, that is. You shouldn't feel obligated to just because I'm—"

But Blaine smiled in response. "I would be honored to join you, Kurt."


	9. Chapter Eight

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
by crystallicrain  
****in collaboration with cacell**

**Notes:** I hope this was worth the wait, you guys. (:

* * *

Dusk came at last, and Blaine found himself grasping two sets of reigns, leading Drizzle, Finn's horse, and Elizabeth, Kurt still riding atop of her. Blaine had given up after falling off of Drizzle several times, a rip in his pants exposing the skin just below his knee. After laughing off each fall and assuring the prince that he was, in fact, all right, he'd decided to instead bring them back to the stables on foot.

"I am sorry," Kurt said at last, and Blaine glanced up at him.

"What for?" he asked.

"I thought that perhaps riding together wouldn't turn out so disastrous," he admitted. "I assumed that you'd be a bit of a natural."

"You definitely assumed wrong," Blaine said with a laugh, and Kurt smiled at him. "But I still rather enjoyed it. It was lovely."

"We could always make another attempt," Kurt told him. "I could actually teach you."

"Another excuse to spend more time with you?" Blaine asked a little teasingly as they entered the stables, and Kurt flushed.

Blaine smiled at the prince, offering him his hand. Kurt graciously took it, hopping down from the horse, stumbling slightly as he did so. Blaine caught him easily, one hand still holding his, the other now planted firmly at the small of Kurt's back. Kurt looked at him, feeling the colour rise in his cheeks and his breath hitch in his chest. However, Blaine quickly released him.

"My apologies, your highness," he said, breaking all eye contact, immediately turning to leave.

"Wait!" Kurt said quickly, reaching his hand out to the other boy, who turned to face him once more. "Please don't go, Blaine."

Blaine looked at him sadly. "Sire, I—"

Kurt sheepishly reached out, grasping onto Blaine's hand, his palm so rough against his own. "Please," he said breathlessly. "Please, don't. Let's just pretend, for tonight—pretend that I'm not the prince. I... I really want for you to kiss me, and I want the only reason you don't to be that you honestly do not wish to."

There was only a brief moment's hesitation before Blaine closed the gap between them, a hand on Kurt's shoulder, pressing his lips against the other boy's. Blaine noted how sweet Kurt's lips tasted, like strawberries and mint, so gentle against his own. Kurt reached for Blaine's face, the skin of his palm so very soft as he gently ran his thumb along his cheekbone.

After what only felt like milliseconds, Blaine pulled away, looking at Kurt with tired eyes. "We shouldn't be doing this," he whispered.

"I know," Kurt responded, his hand still resting on Blaine's cheek.

"I don't think I care." Blaine's heart stopped as the words slipped out of his mouth, worrying that it was too bold, afraid of Kurt's reaction. But instead, the prince smiled, leaning in so that their noses were touching.

"Thank god," he breathed, and immediately their lips were on each other's once more.

* * *

Rachel stared at the young man before her with uncertainty.

"You're a knight along with Finn, aren't you?" she asked, and he nodded. "I'm afraid I don't recall your name."

"Noah," he said smoothly, "though most call me Puck."

She nodded. "Is there something I can do for you, Noah?"

"I have a proposition for you," he said, and she raised her eyebrows. "I would like to court you."

She stared at him blankly for a moment. "But.. why?" she asked. "We're not exactly from a similar crowd. I wasn't even aware you knew who I was."

"It isn't exactly what you might think," Puck said hesitantly.

"You love Quinn."

Puck raised his eyebrows this time. "What would give you that impression?" he asked.

"I saw the way you were speaking to her back at the celebration for Karofsky's promotion," she said simply.

"Well," Puck said in response, "you love Finn, right?"

"I never said that," she whispered.

"I think you've made your feelings far more obvious than I have," he smirked, folding his arms.

"Fine," she said loftily, also crossing her arms across her chest. "So what would this be? A plot to tear the two of them apart? Because I cannot say I _completely _approve of such behaviour—"

"While I appreciate the idea," he cut in, "I must say that was not my intent. Well, not exactly."

"What would your motive be, then?" she asked.

He smiled at her again. "You don't trust me?"

"You're as snakelike as you are handsome," she told him.

"I take that as a compliment, actually," he responded, and she rolled her eyes. "I try to be a good person," he continued exasperatedly after a moment. "I'm making an attempt at reformation. I like to think that one day I can return home to be able to see my mother, and when I do I'll have the life she always wanted for me. And while I can't say that you're the usual type of girl I find myself fond of, there is something about you."

Rachel's cheeks reddened. "Your intent, Noah?" she asked sheepishly.

He sighed, putting a hand under her chin and bringing her up for a swift kiss. "To make two decent, lonely people just a little less alone."

She stared at him, breathless. "We shouldn't," she murmured. "Why do you care if I'm lonely, anyway?"

"I don't think it's fair that Finn has two beautiful girls willing to walk to the end of the earth for him," he said, "only to treat both of you as he does. And considering that Quinn is more concerned about regaining her status than anything else..." He paused. "Finn's good, he really is, but he's daft. He's going to choose Quinn because it's easier. I've conned people, I've treated people badly. And while it's a lost cause to try to treat everyone better as some sort of repentance, I think I can easily be a good person to you."

Rachel placed a gentle hand on Puck's shoulder, standing on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. "All right," she said, a little sadly. "I could be willing to try this."

* * *

Santana opened one of the cupboards, frowning at its contents. Certainly there had to be _something_ she could snatch and take back to her quarters. She knew that there was always a supply of rolls and cakes, but as she tore apart the kitchen, she was only becoming more frustrated and discouraged. She spotted a jug of wine and raised an eyebrow. Maybe _that_ could get her through the night...

"Are you looking for something?"

Santana jumped, whipping around to see a blond cook.

"Are you one of the cooks?"

"Brittany," she responded, with a smile and a nod. "I can help you find something, if you like."

Santana narrowed her eyes at the girl. "You're not going to tell me how late it is and that I shouldn't be sneaking around the kitchens, stealing the king's food?"

"Why would I do that?" Brittany asked, tilting her head, and Santana shrugged. "I was going to make gingerbread. It's one of Prince Kurt's favourite treats in the morning. You could have some, if you like."

"All right," Santana said distrustingly, perching on a barrel beside a metal rack of ingredients. She stared at Brittany as she bustled around the kitchen, clearly in her element, but she was unable to shake a strange feeling she had.

Perhaps, she argued with herself, it was the manner that the blond spoke. Her words were so simple, and so child-like and innocent. It was unnerving for the girl who had previously taken to cheating and stealing.

"Here," Brittany said some time later, setting a metal plate with a piece of gingerbread on the small table in front of Santana.

She sat across from Santana on another barrel, and the girl frowned slightly. "Why is it that you're being so nice?" she asked at last, and again Brittany looked a little confused.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked.

Santana shrugged. "Most people aren't," she said. "It's just the way things work. No body is nice without motive, because someone always wants something. Maybe they don't admit it, but it's true. I just can't figure out what it is that you want."

Brittany blinked. "Nothing," she said, and Santana scoffed.

"I have difficulty believing that."

"Don't you have anybody who cares for you and treats you kindly, only for that reason?" Brittany asked.

"I don't need to waste my time with that nonsense," Santana said with a distinct bitterness. "I tell people what they need to hear. I'm honest, and that makes me a bad person. When people treat you like vermin, you start to feel it; you feel like a rat. It turns you cold. But you're so damn kind, you couldn't possibly understand that, could you?"

"I'm sorry."

Santana shrugged again. "Has anyone ever treated you poorly?" she found herself inquiring. "Or has your life just been that perfect?"

"I'm not very smart," Brittany admitted, and Santana felt a small pang of something unfamiliar at the blond's words. "A lot of people treat me like I'm hopeless because of it. But Prince Kurt doesn't think that, so he helps me and defends me when he can. He takes care of me."

Santana let out a small hum, still disbelieving. She was silent for several moments, picking apart the gingerbread still laying before her.

"If you like," Brittany said, and Santana glanced back up at her, "I could take care of you."

Santana froze, her eyes still on the girl before her. "Why would you want to do that?"

"Because you don't have anybody else," Brittany said, a look of confusion as though what she'd just said was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I've gotten on this far without anyone," Santana snapped. "Why do you think I would want your help?"

"I don't think you like being lonely," Brittany responded.

Santana's eyes returned to the table. "I don't need anyone," she repeated, half-heartedly.

"I know," Brittany said. "But it's nice to have someone, just in case you do."


	10. Chapter Nine

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
****by crystallicrain  
****in collaboration with cacell**

* * *

Kurt watched listlessly as his brother battled against Karofsky, practicing their moves, swords clanging with occasional sparks. He'd been patiently waiting to speak with Finn, to make the request that was at the forefront of his brain.

He turned slightly as a small figure joined him, curtseying.

"Hello, Rachel," he smiled. "Are you here for Finn, as well?"

"Noah, actually, your highness," she responded.

Kurt raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "I think they're all set to rest, soon. I've been waiting to have a word with Finn for quite a bit, now."

"You're in an awfully kind mood for someone being forced to wait," she commented, and he grinned sheepishly, colour blossoming on his cheeks. Her own smile widened when she saw this. "Is it something you'd care to share?"

"Not just yet," he told her, and she nodded.

"Well, should you decide to share the good news—"

"Damn it, Karofsky!" Finn's voice cut through the air, and the prince and baroness turned, seeing as he approached Karofsky, the commander's head turning away from the two conversing. "You wanted to fight me, and now you can't even be bothered to—Kurt?"

Finn had taken notice Kurt and Rachel at last, tilting his head slightly and walking toward them. "What are you two doing down here?" he asked.

"I need a word with you," Kurt said, "and Rachel is here to see Noah. I—I'll allow you two a moment, and go fetch him."

Rachel watched as Kurt walked away, nearly wishing that he hadn't left her alone with Finn. She knew that this moment might come, but in all painstaking honesty, she had hoped it might not.

"So is it true then?" Finn asked her, and she looked up at him questioningly. "For the last two weeks, Puck's been speaking of nothing but you. I'm not a complete idiot. Is there really something romantic happening between you two?"

"It's possible," Rachel said evasively.

"Why?" Finn asked.

"Why shouldn't there be?" Rachel inquired in turn. "Can you think of an adequate reason I shouldn't?"

"Other than my objection?" Finn offered.

"You have no say in my romantic affairs," Rachel said in an attempt at anger, though it come out in a defeated tone instead.

"Why—"

"You made your choice, Finn," she told him simply, sadly, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"I didn't—"

"Rachel?"

The girl turned her head, her eyes softening as they fell upon Puck, approaching with Kurt.

"Noah," she smiled. He offered her his arm and she graciously took it, pointedly avoiding Finn's gaze as they walked off.

Finn furrowed his brow. "I don't understand—"

"_Finn_." The taller boy looked at Kurt. "I'd like to quickly remind you that, while you're pining for Rachel, you _are_ courting Quinn." Finn looked down, opening his mouth to speak, though Kurt again cut him off. "Be that as it may," he pressed on, "if you so desire, we can have this conversation later, because I'm in desperate need of a favour."

Finn raised his eyebrows. "And what would that be?"

"Since your mother has been taking my father's place in a business matter for the past week," he replied, "she requested me to ensure that my father follows instructions so that he might continue to get well. I've been taking care of him and watching him vigilantly, but today..." He trailed off looking hopefully at his brother, was looking at him with the same suspicion.

"Does this have to do with that stablehand?" he asked.

Kurt's cheeks reddened. "I—wh-_what_?" he spluttered. "What stablehand?"

"I overheard Mercedes and Brittany about some stableboy that you always seem to be speaking with—"

"_Quiet!_" Kurt said urgently, glancing around nervously. Thankfully the other knights were still practicing, with the exception of Karofsky, who was staring at them with narrowed eyes. Kurt bit his lip, grabbing Finn's elbow and yanking him several meters away, ensuring that they wouldn't be overheard. "_Look_," Kurt continued in a hushed tone, "I will have this conversation with you later as well, when we're in _private_. All I'm asking of you now is that you look after my father so that I can have a few hours to myself. Please?"

"Fine," his brother replied exasperatedly. "But what—"

"_I'm going riding, _Finn," he said, staring at his brother with hard eyes. "We will speak later. I promise, all right?"

"All right," he said with a sigh. "If it'll keep me away from Karofsky, I'm willing to do anything."

"Thank you," Kurt smiled.

* * *

"I know why you're here," Puck told her, and Rachel stiffened.

"You do?" she asked in a hushed voice.

He nodded. "You're here to end it, aren't you?" he continued. "What's been going on between us, I mean."

"I'm so sorry, Noah," she said in a hushed tone.

"Why?" he asked her.

"It's nothing to do with you," she told him quickly. "You've been so kind to me, and it's more than I could ever ask for, but..."

"But you still love _him_."

She nodded, not looking him in the eye. "And after speaking with him, I wish more than anything I didn't. But right now, I'm still in love with Finn, and whether or not you admit it, you're still in love with Quinn. It's too painful for both of us. Maybe in a few months or in a year or maybe more... maybe we could be happy together. But... not now."

Puck swept in, pressing his lips to Rachel's. "This isn't goodbye," she mumbled against his mouth.

"For now, at least," he told her in a soft, rough whisper.

"Maybe, if we're lucky," she breathed, "we'll both get our way and be with Finn and Quinn, anyway."

He shrugged. "Maybe," he said, "but I've never been a very hopeful person."

She nodded. "I'm sorry, Noah," she told him, and with a swift kiss and a squeeze of his hand, she was gone.

* * *

The harsh sunlight beat down on Kurt and Blaine, only magnified by the river before them. They were perched on the rocks, speaking softly and kissing lazily, fingers entangled.

"Can you swim?" Blaine asked at last. "It would be a beautiful day for it."

"No," Kurt admitted. "But I doubt it would be deep enough to really..." He trailed off as Blaine began unbuttoning his shirt. Kurt swallowed hard, staring at the boy before him. He shrugged off the fabric his chest bare, glancing back at Kurt who was still watching breathlessly.

"Is... is this all right?"

Kurt nodded silently, almost convinced that he'd forgotten how to speak altogether. He took a deep breath, trying to focus on Blaine's face, his eyes, his hair—anything but his bare torso. Especially as he slid off the rock and into the water.

"Join me," Blaine said, looking up at Kurt, but the prince shook his head.

"Really, I don't swim."

Blaine smiled. "You were right—it isn't deep," he said. "It hardly meets my waist."

Kurt hummed in response, standing and nervously peering into the water.

"I'm not afraid to use force," Blaine told him seriously.

Kurt smirked. "I dare you."

The moment the words escaped Kurt's lips, he regretted them, Blaine wrapping his arms around the prince's hips and spinning them both around. Blaine laughed as the other boy repeatedly squeaked, "_oh god, oh god, oh god_," until he was lowered gently.

The moment his feet made contact the slick bottom of the river, however, they slipped from beneath him. His eyes widened as he clasped tightly onto Blaine's wrists, dragging him below the surface with him.

There was a brief moment of struggling and fumbling, as Blaine did his best to return to his feet and pull Kurt back up with him. At last they broke the surface, Kurt spluttering and choking, Blaine himself taking deep gasping breaths.

Immediately Kurt pulled away, stumbling back over to the rocks and pulling himself out of the water, Blaine close behind him.

"You're awful!" Kurt gasped, his hands on his knees.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said breathlessly, his cheeks red and eyes full of concern. "I honestly didn't expect you to slip."

Kurt sighed, settling on the grass. He hugged himself, chilled by the breeze that was now whipping through the trees.

"You're cold," Blaine said gently, sitting beside him.

"I'm _soaked_," Kurt responded, and Blaine smiled gently at him.

"Here," Blaine said. He reached out, carefully undoing the buttons on the front of the prince's shirt. At last he reached the bottom-most button, and allowed his fingers to gently brush against his chest as he moved to push the fabric off his shoulders. He rested one of his hands at the back of Kurt's neck. "You're beautiful," he whispered.

Hesitantly Kurt reached out, resting his palms against Blaine's naked chest and staring up at the boy's face, his soaked curls dripping into his eyes. The prince watched as a droplet of water slid from the stablehand's hairline and down the slope of his cheek, coming to rest at his slightly parted lips. Kurt's eyes flickered to Blaine's, then back to his lips. He quickly leaned in against the dark-haired boy, kissing him hungrily.

Blaine pulled the prince to him, and Kurt shuddered at the bare contact, feeling so much of the stablehand's skin against his, still cool and wet from the river. Kurt hesitantly pulled back for a moment to breathe before they were kissing again, open-mouthed and eager.

Blaine gently pressed against him, and Kurt rested back against the grass. The stablehand's hand finally left Kurt's neck, trailing down his chest and stomach, stopping at his hipbone. The prince's hands fell to the small of Blaine's back, pulling him ever closer and causing him to groan into their kiss.

There was a moment when Kurt vaguely registered the sound of movement elsewhere, the sound of someone clearing their throat, but he couldn't bring himself to react, his mind still racing from the contact with the boy on top of him. However, seconds later his heart came to a stop.

"Kurt?"

Blaine quickly pulled himself away from Kurt, panting and staring up at the intruder. Breathless himself, the prince pushed up off the ground into a sitting position, finding himself looking at his step-brother.

"I... I didn't mean to interrupt," Finn said awkwardly, his eyes a little wide as he continued to stare at the couple. "Our father was asking for you, Kurt, and since you said you'd gone out riding... I suppose I should just leave, though..."

He turned and began walking away. At first Kurt watched him go before everything began piecing itself together in his brain and he scrambled to his feet, running after the other boy and grabbing his wrist. "Wait," he gasped out, Finn turning to him. "Look, Finn—this—it—"

"I'm in no position to pass judgment," Finn told him with a slight shrug. "I tried to say earlier that if this is what's made you so cheerful recently, then I have absolutely no problem with it."

Kurt smiled graciously at the boy. "Thank you," he said with relief.

"You're my brother," Finn responded with a grin.

Kurt nodded. "Just..." he paused, biting his lip. "Could you not tell my father?" he asked, and Finn frowned.

"Do you plan on telling him yourself?"

Kurt licked his lips nervously. "Eventually," he said. "But—well, almost nobody knows. I know you can understand my reluctance—it's such a complex matter—"

"I understand," Finn said with a nod. "I mean, I'd like to think that all else isn't of importance when it comes to this sort of thing but... god, who are we kidding? I couldn't even bring myself to believe that Rachel could be accepted as an adequate choice to marry."

Kurt nodded quickly in agreement. "I mean, I love him, but—"

"You love him?"

Kurt froze, finally registering what he'd just admitted. He swallowed, staring breathlessly at his brother.

"You haven't told him that." It was a statement, not a question, and Kurt shook his head. "Why not?"

Kurt swallowed again, his eyes suddenly filled with a sort of sad resignation. "In case this is something I cannot permit myself to continue in the future."

"It's different when you're in love—"

"Didn't you tell me you love Rachel?" Kurt asked, and Finn looked away.

"I love Quinn, too."

"I never said you didn't."

"Well, for not being related by blood, we're certainly alike, aren't we?" Finn responded, and Kurt laughed.

"Brothers who will risk losing love for the sake of their kingdom," Kurt commented bitterly. "Sounds how it should be, actually."

"You think this is normal?" Finn asked with eyebrows raised.

"For us," Kurt sighed. "You love a baroness, and I love a stableboy. It isn't exactly meant to be simple."

* * *

Puck let out a small shout of frustration, throwing his sword to the ground.

"Everything all right?"

He whipped around at the voice, fining himself face-to-face with Quinn. "What do _you_ want?" he bit out.

"So hostile," she said coolly. "I was looking for Finn."

"I haven't seen him," Puck snapped back, turning away from her and making to leave.

Quinn grabbed his wrist, spinning him around to face her. "What is your _problem_?" she asked him furiously. "One moment you're sweet and gentle, the next you're treating me like—"

Her words were cut off, however, when the knight grabbed her face roughly, covering her mouth with his. She pushed him back off of her, cheeks red.

"What was _that—_"she stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath. She leveled her tone as she continued, "I'm with _Finn—_"

"Finn," Puck breathed. "_Prince_ Finn. Tell me, princess, if you still had your throne, would you be with him?"

She was silent, staring at him with cold, hard eyes.

"I thought as much," he spat.

"You're terrible," she told him vehemently. "You're completely terrible."

"And you're more in love with Finn's position than the man himself," he replied. "And I know that what you want to do more than _anything_ right now," he continued, his voice dangerously soft, so close to her now that it was almost painful, "is kiss me again."

She glared at him, pursing her lips, throwing a glance over her shoulder as though to ensure they were alone. Then, she roughly grasped his shirt, yanking him back down to her level.

"I mean that you're terrible," she whispered, their lips brushing.

"I can live with that," he responded with a smirk, and he closed the space between them.


	11. Chapter Ten

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
by crystallicrain  
in collaboration with cacell **

* * *

Brittany frowned, pushing the door to the wine cellar open. The dark room was flooded with light, and she saw the source of the noise she had heard.

"Santana?" she asked uncertainly, kneeling on the floor with the dark-haired girl, who was sniffling and swiping at her eyes. "Have you been crying?"

"_No_," Santana responded in a rough voice.

"But you seem so sad," Brittany said.

"I'm not _sad_," Santana snapped. "I'm angry."

"Why?"

Santana made a frustrated noise, looking down at the floor. "That blond tart of a princess—I saw her and Puck kissing."

Brittany shifted a little. "Are you in love with Puck?"

Santana laughed, shaking her head. "_God_ no," she muttered. "He's not exactly the kind I'd ever love."

"Oh," Brittany said, nodding. "Well, then why are you so upset?"

"He made me a promise," she responded flatly. "We left everything behind and he _made me a promise_. And now he's chasing after that stupid _Quinn_ and they're going to get to _run away_ and live _happy lives_. And I get left here to die alone."

"I thought you said you didn't need anybody," Brittany said, tilting her head to the side. "Why would you be angry at him when—"

"I didn't mean it," Santana snapped. "Maybe I don't need anybody but—_god_. The idea of dying miserable and alone is not one that I can embrace with open arms." She laughed a little shakily, rubbing at her eyes again. "But that's what I get, right? Terrible people don't get to be happy. Terrible people live terrible lives and die terribly alone."

"I don't think you're a terrible person," Brittany told her. "You're very pretty and you seem really wonderful. And I think that you definitely deserve to end up happy."

Santana looked curiously at the blond. "I just can't understand you," she whispered a little wondrously.

"It's all right," Brittany said in her usual, emotionless tone. "I don't really understand a lot of things."

Santana frowned a little, directing her attention back to her hands. "You don't have to sit here with me," she mumbled.

"I know," Brittany replied. "But you need someone right now, and I want to be that person."

* * *

Finn settled himself in the chair, yawning. He was tired, exhausted even, waiting patiently for Lauren or Brittany to bring out his breakfast. He'd gotten used to dining alone since his mother was away, since Burt was sick. It didn't so much as faze him anymore.

The blond sat a tray before the prince, and he smiled at her. Then, an idea struck him.

"Brittany?"

The girl turned back to him, tilting her head curiously. "Yes, your highness?"

Finn fumbled for the words for a few moments. "Kurt... he speaks with you often, doesn't he?" he asked.

Brittany smiled. "Oh yes," she said. "I bring him tea every night and we talk quite a bit then."

"What you were saying the other day... about... him and Blaine..." He paused awkwardly. "Well, he's spoken to you about it, hasn't he?"

Brittany nodded. "He loves him," she said.

Finn smiled. "Yeah, he told me," he replied. "He... he makes Kurt happy, doesn't he?"

Again Brittany nodded. "He does," she said. "And I like Prince Kurt happy."

"Yeah," Finn grinned. "Yeah, me too."

"Someone in the castle needs to be," she continued with a slight sigh.

"How do you mean?"

"Last night I found Santana crying," she deadpanned. "Though she says she wasn't, but she definitely _was_. She said she saw her friend Puck kissing some princess she called a pastry, and I don't understand that either—"

"Puck was kissing a princess?" Finn asked, furrowing his brow. "Rachel isn't a princess, and they ended things anyway."

"No, it wasn't Rachel," Brittany responded. "Santana calls her things a lot worse than that. I think she said her name was Quinn."

Finn's fork fell to the tray with a clatter, the prince staring the the blond. Then, he slammed his fist on the table, walking briskly out of the room.

"Is he all right?"

Brittany turned to see the other prince entering, one eyebrow raised. "I don't know," she said. "I think I said something wrong."

Kurt frowned slightly, taking his usual seat. "What is it that you said?" he asked.

"Well, we were talking about you at first," she said slowly, to which Kurt raised his eyebrows even more. "But then I mentioned how I was comforting Santana last night because she saw Puck with Princess Quinn..."

The prince choked slightly on the tea he was sipping. "_That_," Kurt said slowly, "would explain it all."

* * *

"Puckerman!"

The shout pierced the air, causing several of the knights to freeze, other turning to the prince with eyebrows raised. Soon enough Finn was standing right in front of Puck, who was frowning slightly.

"What's going—"

The prince's fist slammed into the side of Puck's face, and he stumbled back. His hand flew to his cheek, now glaring at Finn. "What the hell—?"

"You _know_ what the hell this is about!" Finn yelled at him. "I'm not stupid, Puckerman—"

"Well you could certainly fool me," Puck spat, and suddenly Finn was pushing him to the ground, punching every inch of skin he could. Immediately Puck was hitting and shoving Finn back, and a few of the other knights were grabbing at the pair, trying to separate them.

At last two of the others were holding tightly onto Finn's arms, another helping Puck back to his feet.

"Do you have some kind of problem?" Puck spat at him.

"My problem is with you stealing the girl I love—"

"Are you serious?" Puck shouted. "You have two beautiful women fawning over you and willing to do anything for you, and what do you do? You spin them in circles and never give them a straight answer. They deserve so much better than you!"

"And you think you're better?" Finn asked vehemently. "How many girls have you been with? How many have you given a damn about?"

"I care more for either one of them than you do for the both combined!" Puck shouted. "You've done nothing but use them! You couldn't make a god damned decision, so you wanted both."

"Never," Finn responded. "I never did anything while I was with the other and you know it. I made my choice! I chose Rachel, and you stole her from me—"

"_Quinn_."

"What?" Finn asked, still struggling against the two boys holding him, his chest heaving. "What are—I—_what?_"

"You chose Quinn, you dolt," Puck said. "Not Rachel, _Quinn._"

"That's... that's what I said," Finn responded breathlessly, but his head was spinning. Had he really given the wrong name?

"You said you chose Rachel, but you chose _Quinn_," Puck repeated.

"I didn't mean—"

"Maybe you didn't mean what you said," Puck said. "Maybe you meant to say Quinn, and maybe your tongue honestly did just slip. But do you want to know a secret? _Rachel chose you_."

Finn stared at him.

"Rachel has never wanted anybody but you," he said. "Even while she was hurting because of the choice you made, she couldn't stand the idea of giving up her hope on you. She's so bleeding _in love with you_ and you didn't care."

"I was in love with Quinn," Finn said weakly. "That's what this is about. I loved her, and—"

"And I kissed her," Puck said. "I admit it. Does that make you happy? What if I said '_I'm sorry'?_"

Finn shook his head. "You're not."

Puck half-heartedly raised a shoulder in a sort of shrug. "Should I be?" he asked. "You just admitted you'd rather be with Rachel when you said _her_ name."

* * *

Kurt looked up, grinning and clapping his hands together as Brittany placed the plated cake before him. "You're the best," he said. "You do know that, don't you?"

But instead of looking pleased, the blond chef looked a little crestfallen. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he responded, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his tea. "Sit with me."

She obliged. "How did you know that you're in love with Blaine?"

Slowly, Kurt rested his spoon beside his cup of tea. His initial impulse was to deny the girl's words, but he fought that desire, instead seeking a response that might actually help her. "I..." he hesitated, staring thoughtfully into his cup, "I'm not entirely sure," he admitted. "There was a part of me that I think always knew." He paused again. "Do you think you might be in love with someone?"

"Oh, I know that I am," she responded quickly. "That wasn't why I asked."

"Oh," Kurt responded, even more confused now. "Then why—?"

"Santana," she responded. "I think she's under the impression that she can't fall in love."

"Maybe it isn't a matter of her being able to," Kurt responded thoughtfully. "Maybe it's a matter of her allowing herself to."

"Why wouldn't she let herself fall in love?" Brittany asked.

Kurt shrugged. "She could be afraid."

"Of what?"

Kurt shifted slightly in his seat. "Of what others will think or say," he said softly. "That maybe she'll be letting someone down."

"Is that what you're afraid of?"

He paused once again, letting the girl's constant awareness of things sink in. "A bit," he said. "Then again, there are far more eyes concentrated on me and my every move. I'm set to be king, and many more people care about what each of my actions means for them rather than my actual happiness. They'd rather see me ruling beside a queen, or ruling by myself, instead of another man. It's improper, to them. They simply don't want it."

"But what do _you_ want?" Brittany asked.

"Him." The answer was reflexive, and Kurt sighed after making the admission. "What I would give to only make it that simple."


	12. Chapter Eleven

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme**

**notes: **Hey guys! I'm sorry that this has been taking so long. I'm sorry to say that Charlie (cacell) has mostly lost interest in the fandom, so I'll be posting these chapters (I have nine finished chapters including this one) without drawings (at least for the time being). So enjoy! And I'll give you two chapters as once, to make it a little better?

Oh, and please go to my profile and vote in my poll for the next AU I write. It would mean a lot to me!

* * *

**chapter eleven;**

"He said he's in love with her."

Blaine raised his eyebrows at Kurt. "You sound like you don't believe him."

Kurt gave a slight shrug, examining their intertwined fingers as he leaned slightly against the kitchen countertops. "I think that he's rushing into things by acting on it," the prince admitted. "I think that for him to go on this _quest,_ as he called it, to win her over... I think it is a bit foolish."

"Is it really, though, if he's in love?" Blaine asked with a small smile. "I mean, if it is..."

"I still think it's rather silly and rash," Kurt mumbled.

Blaine laughed in response. "Have you never been in love?"

Kurt's breath hitched slightly as he mentally sought out an answer because, _yes_, he could honestly say he was in love—in fact, at that very moment. But actually voicing that... he simply couldn't.

"A terribly bold question to ask the prince, don't you think?" Kurt questioned, hoping that his tone was not wavering like he thought it might.

Blaine took a step closer to the young prince, causing him to fall back against the cupboards slightly. "You've never minded my boldness before," he responded cheekily, pressing forward to kiss him.

Kurt hummed softly as Blaine pushed against him, their bodies so painfully close, yet still not close enough—_never_ close enough.

Blaine's hands travelled down to Kurt's waist, squeezing slightly, causing Kurt to gasp at the pressure. He pulled Blaine's face closer to his, deepening the kiss even further.

Immediately Blaine reciprocated, grasping the prince's hips and pulling him sharply toward him. Then his mouth slowly made its way along Kurt's jawline, leaving a burning, pleasurable trail as he did so. Kurt let out a low groan, tangling his long fingers in Blaine's curls. His other hand quickly slipped beneath the stablehand's linen shirt.

There was a clattering noise just outside the kitchen and both boys froze, hearts racing for what was suddenly a much less enjoyable reason.

"Quick," Kurt muttered without a second thought, opening the cupboard that was right beside his feet with one of his hands, the other hurriedly pressing against Blaine's back. "In."

Without hesitation the stableboy scrambled into the cupboard, Kurt slamming the door shut and standing just in front of it. The curly-haired boy adjusted himself so that he could see out of the small crack where the two doors met.

His stomach flipped as recognition of the figure set in. This wouldn't be good.

"What are you doing here, Karofsky?" Kurt asked a little coolly.

"Why the harsh tone, your highness?" the other man bit out. "I could ask you the same question, actually. I'm surprised you're not yet again prancing about with that worthless stablehand."

Kurt scoffed, and the sinking feeling that had developed in Blaine's stomach at Karofsky's words eased slightly. "Blaine's a wonderful young man, Dave."

"He's a dirty commoner," Karofsky responded. "Your need to consider status aside, you still deserve better than _that_."

Kurt pressed his legs closer to the cupboard door, and Blaine frowned at the action. He wanted nothing more than to defend Kurt—and himself—to the commander. However, Kurt was purposefully not allowing him to do so.

"And who do you think is so much better than him, Dave?" the prince asked. "You? You're not exactly someone I find very appealing."

There was a fleeting feeling of pride that the stableboy felt at Kurt's defense. However, that was quickly gone and Blaine's eyes widened as Karofsky placed a hand on either side of Kurt's face, yanking him forward forcefully and planting his lips on his. The stablehand instinctively attempted to leap forward, but his trousers had caught on something in the darkness, not allowing him to budge. He yanked at them, but found it made no difference.

"Get off of me, you disgusting—"

Blaine jerked his head up to watch as Kurt moved his hands to shove Karofsky away, but the commander grabbed his wrists, again yanking him toward him, moving in to kiss the young prince once more.

His heart pounding, Blaine devoted every ounce of strength he had to rip the fabric that had caught itself, though the force sent him tumbling forward with a clatter as he burst through the cupboard door. Luckily for him, Karofsky was taken aback just enough that Blaine was able to stumble back to his feet before he lunged at the commander, pushing him off of Kurt.

The commander quickly became aware of what was happening, shoving Blaine away, pressing his face into one of the pantry shelves. Something sharp dug deeply across the stablehand's cheek, causing him to wince in pain as blood trickled down his chin. He thrust his hand upward, his palm colliding with the larger man's nose with a sickening noise.

Karofsky pushed Blaine to the ground, and Kurt was struggling to pull him off, yanking at his shirt and digging his fingers into his shoulders though it did no good. At last Karofsky pushed Kurt back off of him and the prince stumbled slightly, catching himself on the counters and holding himself up there.

"_Oi!"_

The shout caused Kurt to whip around, watching as Santana—whom he hadn't even heard enter, with Brittany, who was rooted to her spot—grabbed a jug of wine and aimed it at the fighting pair, drenching them in the dark red liquid.

It was enough of a distraction for Blaine, soaked and bleeding, his chest heaving, to get back to his feet, leaning heavily against a barrel quite a distance away from the commander, who was similar in appearance.

Santana approached Karofsky, pointing a warning finger at him. "You need to get your sorry arse out of here right this minute," she bit out.

Karofsky scoffed. "You think you can tell me what to—"

"I think I _am_ telling you what to do," she retorted. "I'll fight you if I have to, and believe me that I fight dirty." Karofsky only continued to stare at her with narrowed eyes, and she took a step forward, surprisingly intimidating for such a slender figure. "If you don't leave this minute... well, I think I witnessed a fair amount that will cost you any respect any idiot in the kingdom might still have for you."

The commander's face contorted angrily but he straightened himself. "Fine," he spat. "But if there is _any_ mention of what happened... what you think you saw... I _swear_, I'll kill all of you."

He turned and left, and Blaine was immediately at Kurt's side. He whispered assurances to the prince, who simultaneously kept promising that he was all right.

"Thank you," Kurt finally managed to tell Santana, and she shrugged.

"You should get cleaned up," was her only response, tilting her head as she stared at Blaine. He nodded wordlessly.

"We were actually searching for you," Brittany finally said. Kurt looked at her curiously. "I was given this," she said, holding out a piece of heavy parchment, folded neatly and sealed with wax. Kurt took the paper from her, flipping it over in his hand, where _Prince Kurt_ was written neatly in dark ink.

"Who was it from?" Kurt asked, still a little breathless, looking up at the two girls before him.

Santana shrugged. "Some boy gave it to us, with directions to give it to you," she said. "Admittedly, I tried asking about it, but he said it wasn't our business, and repeated that we need to give it to you. He had the _audacity_ to tell us not to open it. As if it would make a difference if either of _us_ did. He didn't seem very bright though."

The prince nodded absently, hardly hearing what she was saying, his curiosity piqued. With hesitant hands, Kurt unfolded the letter.

* * *

Finn knocked on the door to Rachel's home, his heart pounding in rhythm with his fist. He waited hopefully for the answer to come, but after several moments, it did not. He frowned slightly, but still hopeful, he pounded against the door once again.

It felt like an eternity passed as he stood stupidly, waiting for the door to open and reveal the very girl he wanted so desperately to see.

At last, he pressed against the door, and to his surprise it opened with ease. He let himself in, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realised just how empty and dark it was.

Everything that had made the home Rachel's own was gone. Every single possession was missing, leaving the rooms bare and cold. He refused to accept the sight before him, running from room to room, but finding the same thing in each one: nothing, and nobody, was there.

He descended the stairs once more, settling himself on the bottom-most step, placing his head in his hands, the reality of it sinking in.

But no, it couldn't be real. It couldn't.

All he could desperately think, over and over, was that it was too late. _He_ was too late.

* * *

"Who is it from?" Brittany gently asked. Kurt looked up her, frowning.

"Rachel," he mumbled, and Santana scoffed.

"That little woodland dwarf?" she asked. "What could she possibly write you that's so _terribly_ important?"

Kurt's eyes darted back to the letter, scanning over the words once more, as though to ensure that he truly understood the meaning. He glanced back at Blaine, handing the letter to him in turn. He took it hesitantly, reading it as quickly as he could, his expression mirroring Kurt's.

A thousand thoughts crossed Kurt's mind, worrying about her safety and well-being. Where she'd gone, where she'd live, who she was with...

All she said was she needed time away, an escape. She needed to remove herself from Finn because she couldn't stand the pain, and it wasn't healthy for her to be constantly pining.

She needed to concentrate on herself, and that was that.

"Well?" Santana pressed on.

"She's run away," Kurt admitted at last. "She left the kingdom, she... she's gone."


	13. Chapter Twelve

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme**

* * *

**chapter twelve;**

The late autumn air was chilling, and Rachel pulled her small cloak more tightly around her shoulders. Maybe she should have thought about this more. After all, now she was alone in a strange place. All to get away from the pain she felt from being so close to...

She shook her head, tightening her grip on the bag that now held the majority of her belongings. She could do this. She had to.

She cautiously stepped into a tavern, welcoming the the warmth and cheerfulness that radiated from it. She set her bag on a table and took a seat, hoping to offer a trade whenever a worker might come by—she would happily work, singing to entertain guests, if they might offer her a bed and some food.

"You seem lost."

She started slightly, looking up at a curly-haired brunette boy, who was grinning at her.

"Not at all," she said.

"I've certainly never seen you here before."

She shrugged. "I've run away," she confessed. "I was hoping that for some work, so that I might earn my stay."

He nodded. "You sing?"

"How did you—"

"Lucky guess," he said, shrugging in turn. "It's generally my job here, but maybe if you prove to have some talent, I wouldn't mind sharing the attention. So what's your name?"

She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. "Rachel," she responded, and he took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "And what, then, is yours?"

"Jesse St. James."

* * *

"You shouldn't be doing this for me," Blaine said with a weak smile as Kurt poured the steaming water into the tub. "You're the prince. You shouldn't be lifting a finger, especially for someone like _me._"

"_Hush_," Kurt responded, brushing his lips against Blaine's cheek. "Just let me take care of you for one moment." He stepped back a little and smiled. "That was brave of you. Stupid, but brave."

"Sounds accurate enough," Blaine said softly. "He never should have done that, though. It was so—so—"

"I know," Kurt murmured. "I'm just..." He bit his lip, looking nervously at the dark-haired boy before him. "I'm terrified of what else he could do. Karofsky is ruthless, and that threat he made... It just... I wish things weren't so complex."

Blaine placed a hand on Kurt's cheek comfortingly. "It will be all right."

But Kurt shook his head. "It won't," he murmured. "Because in order to stop Karofsky, I need to admit everything and I'm not prepared to do so. I want to tell everyone how happy you make me, but the world seems incapable of accepting that. I just hate it."

"I'm willing to stand by you, however long it may take," Blaine responded. "Whether or not you ever feel as though you can tell a single soul."

Kurt smiled weakly at him. "You should get in before it gets cold," he said. "I'll find you something to wear after."

Quite a bit later, Kurt pressed softly against the door again. At the noise, Blaine started, turning with wide eyes, only relaxing slightly at the sight of the prince. He swallowed, sinking further into the tub, beneath the water.

"I apologize," Kurt said a little awkwardly, his cheeks flushed, eyes locked on his hands rather than the boy before him. "I assumed... Well, I brought you some of Finn's old clothing to wear. My stepmother kept it from when he wasn't so tall and—"

"Kurt?" The prince looked up, a little unsure of himself, but Blaine was smiling. "Thank you."

Kurt nodded, smiling in return, kneeling beside the tub, setting the clothes aside. Instead he took a cloth in his hands, dipping it into the warm bath water. Gently he pressed the cloth to the cut along Blaine's cheekbone. The darker-haired boy winced slightly, hissing in pain. Kurt immediately drew back.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed.

"You didn't mean to—"

Kurt shook his head. "Not that," he said. "I mean, I'm sorry for that but... really, for everything that's happened."

"Would you even believe me if I told you that you're worth it?" Blaine asked, and Kurt laughed a little sadly. "I completely mean that you are."

Kurt grasped eagerly at Blaine's face, kissing him hard. He pressed himself forward and Blaine leaned back against the side of the tub, groaning into the kiss. When at last they parted, they were both breathing heavily.

"I don't..." Blaine panted, "I don't want to get your nightclothes all wet."

Kurt nodded. "You could dry off, and we could retire to my bedchamber," he suggested breathlessly.

Blaine opened his mouth as though to respond, but Kurt surged forward, kissing him once more. "All right," Blaine whispered. "Just... just a moment."

Kurt nodded, turning toward the door and waiting. He shifted slightly as he heard the movement of bathwater, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he heard the boy padding across the floor a few moments later, and felt his hands on his shoulders. Blaine pressed a gentle line of kisses to Kurt's neck and the prince sighed at the sensation.

"To your quarters?" Blaine asked in a whisper, his breath hot against Kurt's neck, and he nodded. Quickly and quietly they made their way to the prince's room, Kurt shutting the door behind them, their mouths finding each other's the moment they were once again locked away from view.

Kurt's hands tangled in the stablehand's wet curls, pulling him further into the kiss while Blaine's hands roamed experimentally. His hands finally fell onto the brunette's backside, and he squeezed slightly, causing Kurt's hips to jerk forward with a slight gasp. Blaine pulled the boy toward him again, rolling their hips together, causing Kurt to gasp again as the stableboy groaned, hiding his face in the brunette's neck.

"Bed," Kurt managed to pant out. The words had hardly escaped his lips when Blaine pressed him back to the bed, against the sheets. Blaine climbed on top of the boy, earning a low moan from him as the stablehand gently sucked along his neck, leaving tiny marks. He pushed the fabric off of Kurt's shoulder, pressing his lips along the gentle curve, nipping and quickly soothing the bruised skin with a slight swipe of his tongue, causing Kurt's hips to buck up against him.

"_Kurt_," Blaine moaned, the prince's nails dragging down his back before pulling him toward him, their bodies flush against each other's.

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut at the surge of pleasure he felt as Blaine resumed marking him, as if proving to the world that he was his. And Kurt _was_ his, and _would be_ his, because he loved him and—

Kurt suddenly felt a lump forming in his throat, stopping his thought process. He loved Blaine. Loved him like he never thought he _could_ love someone. Not in his lifetime, where he was generally frowned upon for his preferences, where most people would rather _hide_ said feelings out of fear of persecution.

And it felt as though his heart was swelling and shattering at the same time because he couldn't go on pretending that he didn't anymore. He'd promised Mercedes that he'd keep his heart in mind. He couldn't keep pretending that his feelings were trivial, that it wasn't real or important. He couldn't, he couldn't—

"I can't," Kurt breathed out, and Blaine froze on top of him. Suddenly, the warmth of his body disappeared completely and it took several moments for Kurt to come to the realization that _Blaine _was _leaving_.

"Blaine," he gasped out, pushing himself onto his knees, though not trusting himself to stand. "Don't go," he said pleadingly. "_Please—"_

"I'm sorry," Blaine murmured, his voice rough. "I knew that this wouldn't—_couldn't—_last, but I just had this... this _hope_..." He shook his head, running a hand through his half-dried curls. "I'm sorry, your highness." His hand reached for the door handle and Kurt felt his heart pounding in his throat. It was as though someone had tilted the earth, slanting its axis and everything was just falling and spinning from its place.

"I love you."

It was a whisper, soft and hushed. Kurt couldn't even remember saying the words but they tumbled out of his mouth, a confession he knew he had to make at last. There was a strange feeling in his chest, so scared and vulnerable at that moment.

He couldn't take back the words—but he didn't want to. It was a relief that he'd finally told him, but he still felt breathless and nervous.

"K-_Kurt_..." He looked at the prince, dropping his hand. "I... you don't just have to say that—"

"No!" Kurt said desperately, scrambling to the edge of his bed. "No, never. I just... I can't pretend that I don't feel for you as strongly as I do," he said, his voice shaky, pressing his knuckle against his lip and taking in a deep breath. "I _love_ you, Blaine."

He directed his eyes down to his hands that were now grasping his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut, finding that he was saying a tiny prayer to just _not cry._

He felt the bed sink down beside him, felt as fingers curled beneath his chin and forced him to look him in the eye. The dark-haired boy paused before leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to the prince's forehead.

"I love you, Kurt," he whispered against his lips, and Kurt let out a sad, dry laugh. "I do," Blaine pushed on with a smile. "You're so wonderful. I'd do anything for you." Again he pressed their lips together.

"You love me," Kurt said softly.

"Of course," Blaine responded, smiling softly at the other boy.

"And I love you," Kurt said. "We love each other."

"We do."

"So what does that mean," Kurt asked, "for us?"

Blaine pulled Kurt into him, his head falling onto the stablehand's chest. Blaine buried his face into the boy's soft, brown hair, placing kiss there. "Whatever we want it to."

* * *

Santana glanced back over her shoulder, frowning slightly at the sight of the blond, her head tilted and watching her.

"Why do you keep staring at me?" she snapped.

"That was really good of you," Brittany said to her. "To stand up for Prince Kurt, and to help Blaine like that. I thought you said you were a bad person?"

Santana shrugged. "Doing one good thing doesn't make you a good person."

"But what you said," Brittany pressed on. "You didn't have to do all that."

The dark-haired girl shrugged again. "Everyone seems so fond of his highness, and he seems nice enough. Maybe I figured everyone around the castle wouldn't hate me so much if I helped him out."

"That was so kind of you."

Santana frowned, folding her arms across her chest. "Why do you keep saying that?" she asked. "I still only did it for my own benefit."

"But you still didn't have to," Brittany responded, as though it was _Santana_ that wasn't understanding.

Santana let out a small, frustrated sound. "I just _don't understand you," _she said, a little angrily. "It's like you have this _need_ to see everyone as perfect. And why? I haven't exactly been nice to you, but you're so convinced that deep down, I'm '_good'_ or some other nonsense. I just don't understand _why_?"

Brittany looked down for a moment before making eye contact with Santana once more, raising her shoulders just the slightest amount. "Because," she said, her voice still as plain and emotionless and ever, "I'm in love with you."


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme**

**notes: **Welp, here's _that_ chapter. If you've seen the art, then you know what I mean. And well, I've never written something like that, so... so while you read this, then I'm going to go hide.

* * *

**chapter thirteen;**

The two of them were quiet.

It had been several weeks since Finn had returned, and winter had arrived, sudden and brutal. After much delaying, at last Finn and Quinn had agreed to meet and speak. It needed to be done—it honestly did, no matter how uncomfortable it might be.

"I'm so sorry, Finn," the princess said at last, and she finally lifted her eyes to meet the boy's . "I truly am."

"I'm sorry, too," the prince responded, and Quinn tilted her head slightly in confusion. "I never meant to hurt you."

Quinn smiled softly at him. "I know," she responded, then shook her head. "Neither did I."

"I know."

They were quiet for another moment, before Quinn said in a soft voice, "I really did love you. I think... I think a part of me always will, only... only not the same."

He nodded. "I loved you, too," he said. "I just..."

"You loved her, too," Quinn sighed. "I understand. You and I both chose this because we thought it would be easier, but—well, it only caused pain, didn't it?" Finn nodded. "Hopefully things can be made right, now."

The prince gave her a crooked smile, before hearing a distant yell. He furrowed his brow, glancing back at Quinn before they both hurried to the source of the commotion.

"How could you do this?" Santana was shouting angrily, jabbing Puck in the chest with her finger. They both looked livid. "We were in this _together_," she went on, "and now you're telling me of these plans to _run away_ and _save yourself_—"

The other knight with blond hair stepped forward, attempting to gently pull Santana away. "You're completely out of line—"

"Nobody was talking to you, trouty mouth," she spat, yanking her arm away, and the blond put his hand to his lips.

"What's going on?"

Finn turned to see Kurt and Brittany walking toward the scene as well, a picnic basket on the cook's arm, but Finn only shook his head in response to his brother.

"Just _leave me be_!" Puck bit out. "I owe you nothing!"

"This isn't about _owing_, Puckerman," Santana yelled.

"You don't even need me!" the knight responded. He jerked his hand in Brittany's direction. "You've got _her_, now, you don't—"

"She doesn't mean anything to me!" Santana shouted, and Kurt felt the blond beside him tense up before hurrying from the scene. Kurt frowned before immediately taking off after her.

"What a fine job of bettering your life, Santana," Puck said sarcastically.

"And what a fine job you're doing of pretending to be a knight, _Puckerman_," she seethed.

"Enough!" Finn barked, and the duo froze. "Puck, what the hell is she on about?"

Puck's lips were pressed tightly together, as his eyes flickered from Finn, to Quinn.

"Go on, tell them," Santana said bitterly, but the boy remained silent. She folded her arms across her chest. "Fine, then I suppose I will," she went on. She paused. "We're not who we say we are—who we've been since we came around. It's all a lie."

Quinn furrowed her brow. "What are you—"

"We con people, _princess_," Santana spat. "We always have."

"So what's your con this time?" Finn asked angrily. "This is _my kingdom_—"

"No it's not," Santana responded haughtily, and Finn flushed.

"It's as good as—"

"You're not even the king's son!" she cut in.

"_Enough._" Puck snapped. "We're not conning _anyone_."

"The hell you aren't!" Quinn shouted. "If this is true, then you lied about who you are... about _everything._"

"We meant no harm by it," Puck said. "We were seeking refuge."

Finn opened his mouth to respond, but once again Quinn spoke first. "Then why not be honest about that fact?" she asked angrily. "Kurt's father is a benevolent king who would have gladly given you work and kept you safe. He's done so for Blaine—"

"_Blaine_," Santana said, "was never sentenced to death for crimes he committed."

A sudden silence fell.

"Is this true?" Quinn asked softly.

Puck shot an angry look at Santana. "Quinn, I—"

"Don't you dare address me so informally!" Quinn snapped. "I asked you if what she said was true."

"Yes."

Quinn's face was expressionless as she stared at the boy for a moment longer. Then, she turned and swiftly walked away.

Immediately all eyes were back on Puck once she'd left.

"Your highness..." he quickly offered, but Finn shook his head.

"I don't have much sympathy for you right now," he said, before following the princess in the direction of the castle.

* * *

Kurt glanced up as the kitchen door opened, smiling softly as Blaine entered the room. The prince was gently placing small tartlets onto a sheet to cool, a tray partially prepared beside it.

"It's so kind of you to do this," Blaine told him, and Kurt shrugged slightly.

"I can't even remember how long she's been doing to same for me," he told him. "It's the least that I can do to return the favour just once, especially when she's feeling so heartbroken."

Blaine pressed a gentle kiss to the prince's neck. "All the same," he mumbled into his skin, "it's very nice to think about it for her."

Kurt smiled. "Will you set those on a plate?" he asked, gesturing to the sweets which had been sitting out to cool the longest. "I'll take the tea and you can bring those along."

Blaine nodded, carefully placing as many of the tartlets onto a metal plate and following the prince out of the kitchen to the workers' quarters. He stopped outside the very last door, gently pressing it open.

"Brittany?" Kurt asked tentatively, and the blond looked up from her bed, where she sat clutching her pillow. "I brought you some sweets," he told her, entering the room. "And Blaine."

"But I thought Blaine belonged to you," she said, and the prince's eyebrows shot up, the stablehand suppressing a laugh.

"I do," he said, doing his best not to laugh at the girl's misunderstanding, "but I still wanted to keep you company."

"That's so nice of you," she said, visibly brightening.

Kurt and Blaine settled themselves on the bed with Brittany, and immediately the prince began pouring cups of tea for the three of them, while Blaine handed the girl one of the pastries.

"I'm sorry to hear what happened," Blaine said delicately, and Brittany sighed.

"I just don't understand why she said that," she said, a little slow and sad. "Because that isn't what she told me, so she either lied to me or everyone else, and... either way, it hurt. I suppose that Prince Kurt was right, with what he told me."

Blaine hesitated, glancing at Kurt, and then back at her. "What did he tell you?"

"That she's afraid," Brittany responded.

"That was a very astute conclusion," Blaine commented.

"It's because he was afraid, too, right?" she said, now turning to the prince, and he shifted a little uncomfortably under the combined gaze of Brittany and Blaine.

"That's right," he said softly. "But I'm not as much anymore."

"That's good to hear," she said brightly.

* * *

An hour later, the couple departed from Brittany's room. They stopped in the kitchens, leaving the now empty plate and tray, and began their walk back to the stables for Blaine to check on the horses one last time before bed.

It had been a quiet walk until finally Blaine asked the question that had been aching inside of him. "What was it you were so afraid of, if I may ask?" he inquired softly, straightening a few things in Drizzle's stall before brushing his hands off and reappearing at Kurt's side.

"You," Kurt responded in an equally hushed tone, patting Elizabeth's snout. "Us. This. All of this." He laughed lightly. "I was afraid of being in love with you, what it meant."

"But not anymore?" Blaine asked, and the prince turned to him.

"Not anymore," Kurt said, pressing a swift kiss to the boy's lips. He paused, then took a deep breath. "I want... I want for us to stay together tonight."

The prince felt his cheeks burning as Blaine gaped at him, and immediately he wished he hadn't said anything. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, pulling away. "I shouldn't have... it was too bold of me to—**"**

"No," Blaine said quickly. "It wasn't. And I want to, I do. I was merely taken aback." He paused for a moment. "It isn't... it isn't too improper for you to...?"

"No," Kurt responded immediately. "Possibly," he conceded. "But I... I want this."

Blaine nodded slowly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Kurt's lips.

"It'll be chaos in the castle, though," Kurt whispered. "My father and Carole are leaving tonight to speak with the king of Carmel, and—"

"Then we'll stay here," Blaine told him. "Assuming you don't mind—"

"Of course I don't," Kurt said quickly. "But... Nick and Jeff?"

Blaine laughed slightly. "I haven't seen much of either of them for the last few weeks, to tell the truth," he said. Kurt raised his eyebrows, and Blaine smiled. "They're having some argument over Santana, I believe. I'm under the impression she tried to con the both of them into doing some work for her, only now they're fighting over which is the true object of her affections."

"Really?" Kurt asked. "Well, they'll be sorely disappointed when they discover she's actually interested in Brittany, should she ever find the courage to admit it." He paused, settling himself on a crate that was inside one of the otherwise empty stalls. "Actually, I always sort of assumed that... well, that _they_..."

Blaine laughed. "I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who thought that."

There was a moment of silence, and Kurt smiled affectionately at the stablehand. "I truly love you," he said.

"And I love you," Blaine responded, kneeling before him. "You're certain about this?"

"More than anything," Kurt breathed.

Blaine nodded, and after a brief pause, he leaned forward, capturing Kurt's lips in his own. Each breath he took was hesitant, and each move was careful. Kurt shivered slightly from the cold as his coat was removed, and as Blaine undid his shirt buttons delicately. He only paused for a moment before pulling his own shirt over his head.

Again there was a moment without noise or movement, before suddenly Kurt was on his feet and their hands were on each other, touching and exploring softly. Their lips met and, as always, it was ecstasy. It began slow, a few closed-mouth kisses, their hands ghosting over each other's skin, a few occasional whispers between them.

Before long, however, their movements quickened, and Kurt grasped Blaine's face, deepening their kiss. Still, Blaine waited for more indication to go further, granting Kurt control of the situation.

It wasn't long before Kurt lowered his hands to the stableboy's shoulders, rolling his hips only a moment later. Blaine's pulse was rapid, his body suddenly working on its own accord as he reacted to the signals Kurt gave. Without consciously making the decision, he pulled away from the kiss, his lips instantly beginning to work at Kurt's neck, causing the boy to moan. The sound only made Blaine move more fervently as he slowly began working his way down the prince's body.

Blaine gently pressed his lips to the boy's hip, pulling back and letting his fingertips run over the skin there. He looked up to Kurt's face for a quick indication to continue, before he gently eased the trousers down over the other boy's legs.

Blaine couldn't help but simply _look_ at the boy, his smooth parchment skin bathed in soft moonlight and the flickering glow of the only lamp hanging in the entrance of the stable. His mind was suddenly filled with words like '_amazing_' and '_perfect_' before somehow settling upon '_beautiful_', which he repeated aloud. The prince smiled sheepishly as a blush crept onto his face.

Kurt gently reached for Blaine's face, and the stablehand stood. They kissed, hard and heated and desperate.

"I—" Kurt stammered. "I—you should—"

He didn't even finish the sentence, Blaine understanding and stripping himself of his own pair of pants. He was certain that he was wearing a blush that matched Kurt's, but the dark look in the prince's eye made any ounce of embarrassment or nervousness evaporate, as he leaned back onto one of the crates behind them, pulling Kurt onto his lap.

They fumbled to find a comfortable position, Blaine pulling Kurt closer to him and sitting further back on the wooden boxes. He finally looked up at the prince's face and marveled at how calmly the boy was smiling at him, though his cheeks were still a brilliant shade of pink. Blaine, however, was certain that his entire body was flushed, merely from the complete contact of every centimeter of their skin.

Kurt's hand that was propping himself up slipped suddenly and he fell forward, Blaine catching his shoulders. Without another moment passing, he leaned up, capturing Kurt's lips with his own once again. Blaine then kissed down Kurt's neck, leaving a fiery trail blazing on the boy's skin as he did so. Kurt groaned, rocking his hips slightly, causing Blaine to pull his mouth away from the boy's skin.

"I want to—" Kurt whispered, his voice a little breathless, his fingers tracing down the small trail of hair on Blaine's lower abdomen. "Can I—"

Blaine nodded wordlessly, fairly certain that he'd lost all ability to speak, anticipating the sensation. What Kurt was asking to do—the very _idea_ of it—excited every nerve of his body, and he closed his eyes, each passing millisecond feeling like an eternity. Then—

"_Kurt_," he gasped out. "Oh god, _Kurt_."

He felt Kurt smiling as the boy leaned in to kiss him again.

Without warning, Blaine's hips bucked involuntarily, and Kurt fell forward again, catching himself against the crates they were leaning against. Without a second thought, Blaine grasped onto Kurt's backside, yanking him even closer to him. Kurt, who had let most of his weight rest on his knees, allowed himself to lean back a little into a sitting position. Blaine slid beneath him as he did so, causing the both of them to moan at the contact.

They began rocking against each other, somewhat awkward and a tiny bit painful, until at last they found their perfect rhythm. And suddenly it was _perfect_ and _beautiful_ and just _amazing_, as they whispered '_I love you_'s and assurances, each movement a little faster, the pleasure surging through them until it was almost unbearable.

Suddenly Kurt's hand was moving on himself at an almost frenzied speed, Blaine's hips jerking upwards with more force every time he shifted. Kurt was desperately holding a fistful of Blaine's curls, the stableboy's hands still planted firmly on Kurt's hips as they moved frantically against each other, their bodies begging for more friction with each movement.

It only took a few heated, desperate moments before they were moaning each other's names, chests heaving and bodies shuddering. Blaine fell back against the boxes, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming him as the last few waves of pleasure drained away. Kurt slumped forward against him, their bodies wet and sticky against each other's, but neither seeming to care.

They were quiet, even when they finally found themselves able to move again, Blaine gently wiping themselves off with a clean cloth he'd kept in the stables, pressing a soft kiss to Kurt's forehead. He gently pulled the boy to his chest once he'd finished, leaning back into the hay with him.

"I love you," Kurt whispered, his voice thick with tiredness, and Blaine smiled, pressing another kiss to the top of the prince's head.

"Happy?" he asked, and he craned his neck to watch the prince smile, his eyes already closed.

He hummed in agreement. "With you, I am," he murmured, and Blaine laughed lightly.

"Go to sleep," he whispered softly, and Kurt nodded, clutching onto the stablehand a little more tightly.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme**

* * *

**chapter fourteen;**

"Everything all right, Rachel?"

The girl glanced up, smiling faintly as Jesse seated himself across from her. She nodded absent-mindedly, then directed her attention back to the window, and the drops of rain on it.

"What's on your mind?" Jesse pressed, gazing at her intently, and Rachel sighed.

"Just thinking of home," she admitted.

"You miss it." he said, and she paused, turning her attention to her hands.

"A little," she responded. "But I am happy here. With you."

He flashed a grin, taking her hand in his and pressing his lips to her knuckles. "It'll go away," he said. "I promise."

She nodded, a little listlessly.

"My dear lady, you aren't still concerned with the prince you told me about, are you?" he asked suddenly, and she frowned.

"Of course not, Jesse."

"Then why did I catch you writing a letter to him, just a few days ago?"

She sighed. "Everything that might have been between him and I is completely done with," she told him. "And that... that's what I needed to explain. He's my past now. And _you_ are my present and future."

Jesse smiled at her. "As it should be," he responded smoothly. "Now, I was curious if you were prepared for tonight's performance."

Her eyes widened a little. "You... you want me to sing tonight?"

He nodded. "It's definitely time for you to shine, Rachel," he told her. "You deserve it. I meant it when I said that my talent is one of the few to rival your own."

She blushed, smiling at him. "Then I would be happy to perform."

* * *

Finn let out a shout of frustration, crumpling the letter from Rachel in his hands. Puck glared at him as he did so, the two far closer than they would have liked in their makeshift shelter from the rain.

"What the hell is your problem now?" he asked angrily, and Finn shot him an equally angry look.

"It's none of your concern, Puckerman," he spat. "If Karofsky hadn't sent us off on this stupid, pointless mission... God, you're lucky that Kurt had anything to do with you staying. If the king weren't ill, both you and Santana would be banished in a heartbeat."

"Hardly," Puck responded. "You're brother isn't an idiot. He knows that I'm needed, while we're on the brink of war with Carmel. And beside that, he's actually a _kind_ and _forgiving _person. He kept that stablehand around, despite their initial meeting—"

"You can't compare yourself to Blaine," Finn responded. "What you did was far different, and you know nothing of Kurt's relations with—" He cut himself off.

"His _'relations_'?" Puck asked. "What, are you trying to imply that they're courting?"

Finn was silent.

"I never would have suspected," Puck commented vaguely, shaking his head. "The prince and the stablehand."

Finn rounded on him. "Are you going to make his life hell for it, now?" he snapped. "Because honestly, he puts up with enough torture. Just because he prefers the company of another man—"

"Hey," Puck cut in. "Just because you think I'm a complete arse doesn't mean I am. You're jumping to conclusions, but who am I to pass judgment?"

Finn froze. "You mean to say that you don't care?" he asked.

Puck shrugged. "It doesn't change how I view him," he said evenly. "He's still going to be king, and a fine one at that."

Finn nodded without saying a word.

"I am sorry," Puck continued suddenly. "About Quinn, and about Rachel."

"I know," Finn sighed.

"Rachel once told me that, perhaps if she and I were lucky, I'd be with Quinn, and she with you." He laughed hollowly. "Funny that neither of them will have us, now."

Finn smiled. "We're a sorry sight, aren't we?" he asked.

"That letter was from her, wasn't it?" Puck asked, and Finn nodded.

"She's gone," he said. "She's moved on. She's with another man, and she doesn't want me to come looking for her."

"So what will you do?"

"I'll wait," Finn sighed. "From this moment, it's only her. And if that means I wait for her and she still never returns..." He shook his head, and several moments of silence followed.

"I was wrong," Puck commented, and Finn looked up at him curiously. "You genuinely do love her."

* * *

Blaine awoke earlier than he would have liked. He could hear the rain against the roof of the stable, and he faintly smiled in his half-sleeping state as the memories of the night before flooded back to him. He only vaguely registered the fact that the warm body that had been beside his when he fell asleep was no longer there.

"Blaine!"

The shout was jarring, and he sat upright, looking around wildly, trying to understand.

_Kurt._ Kurt _yelling_. Kurt yelling for _him_.

He scrambled to get to his feet, stumbling out of the stall in which they'd fallen asleep, to see two men holding tightly onto Kurt's arms. Two men that Blaine could easily place as blind followers of Karofsky's every move.

Blaine stared dumbly at the sight, still unable to function properly from his tiredness. Still, he knew that any brash movements might only make matters worse.

"Let him go," he requested calmly, and one of the men laughed.

"Blaine, _run_," Kurt urged, still struggling against the two men.

"I'm not leaving you," Blaine assured him, but Kurt shook his head.

"Forget about me!" he cried out. "They're not going to hurt me, Blaine, I'm too important. You need to run before it's too late—"

"I think it already is." A heavy hand was placed on Blaine's shoulder, and he felt a horrible sensation throughout his stomach, as though it a giant, iron fist was clenching around it. "I don't think he'll be going anywhere, now."

"You sick _monster_," Kurt spat. "You horrible, disgusting—"

"Your highness," Karofsky cut across him, "you must understand why I'm doing this."

"I have an idea," Kurt bit out, and he watched as Karofsky stiffened, digging his fingertips into Blaine's shoulder. Kurt softened slightly, holding his tongue, desperately fearing anything else he might say would only worsen the situation.

"He's taken advantage of you, your highness," Karofsky continued coolly.

"He's done no such thing," Kurt breathed out, and Blaine's breath caught as he realised the boy before him was now on the brink of tears. "Please, he's done nothing. Just let him go. I—I'll do anything."

Blaine felt his heart aching as Kurt looked down, desperately attempting to hide his face. He wanted more than anything to move to comfort him.

"I believe that _Blaine_ here is in need of punishment," Karofsky responded. "He has attempted to defile your name, your highness. He's tried to completely ruin your reputation, and I don't look kindly on that. This way, your father need never know. After all, he did leave me to look after things."

"And how did you manipulate him into doing that?" Kurt asked coolly.

"Just a simple reminder that his true son has seemed so... distracted, so worried lately, and pointing out that putting him under the additional stress wouldn't be ideal for his health," Karofsky said with a slight shrug. "It's really all in your better interest, your highness. And after I happened to send your 'brother' away... I seemed the natural choice."

Kurt shook his head. "Stop this," he begged. "Please."

The commander sighed. "I know that right now you can't see what he's done to you, your highness," he said, "but rest assured that his actions will not go unpunished, and your appearances will be able to remain unblemished. This _filth_ will pay for what he's done."

"Fine."

Karofsky looked down at Blaine with mild surprise. "Excuse me?" he asked, and Blaine caught Kurt making a choked noise at the same time. He forced himself to stare at the commander, swallowing and desperately urging himself to show courage.

"I'll take whatever punishment," he responded calmly, and Kurt let out a strangled, "_no!_" Blaine licked his lips and took a deep breath. "Just don't lay a hand on Prince Kurt."

Karofsky smiled crookedly. "Very well," he said, and one of the men that was holding Kurt moved behind Blaine, binding his wrists with a length of rope. The man made a rather rough yank at the ropes and Blaine fell forward the moment that he was released. The pain shot through Blaine's body and he breathed in deeply once again. He heard Kurt's shouting, could hear the shuffling of feet as he struggled against his captors. Pushing up with his elbow, he finally managed to find himself in a sitting position.

"Kurt," he murmured gently, and there was instantly silence in the stables. "Go. I'll be all right. I promise."

The prince simply stared at him before nodding hesitantly through his tears, and the two men jerked him away. He glanced back at Blaine hesitantly, and, certain that Karofsky didn't have his eyes upon him, the stablehand quickly mouthed an, '_I love you_.' The prince forced a weak smile before one of Karofsky's men yanked harder on his arm, and he stumbled, his eyes forward once more as they marched him to the castle.

"You're terrible," Blaine said vehemently, the moment Kurt was out of sight, and the commander peered down at him. "You think that _this_ will win Kurt over? He could never love you."

"Quiet!" Karofsky barked.

"And if you cared about him _at all_," Blaine ploughed on, all to aware how foolish it was to push the commander, "you'd let us be. Let _him_ be _happy._"

Karofksy let out a low growl. "_I said quiet!_" he roared. "Now, _get up_!" Blaine however made no effort to do so. Again the commander shouted in frustration, then grasping onto Blaine's arm where it met his shoulder and yanked him to his feet.

They had only traveled a few metres before Blaine was unceremoniously shoved back to the ground. He closed his eyes as the rain fell on his face, holding his breath as Karofsky pressed his boot against his side, turning him over, with nothing to do but wait for it all do be over.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme**

* * *

**chapter fifteen;**

The moment that Blaine regained consciousness, he almost wished he hadn't. The first thing he felt was a pounding in his skull, followed by a horrible aching in his ribs and a burning sensation on his knee. He quickly realised that his hands were above his head, metal shackling him to the wall and rubbing angrily against his wrists, already tender from the rope that had bound him before.

He suddenly remembered the beating he'd received from Karofsky, details flooding his mind, the pain he felt now making more sense. He shifted slightly, and groaned from the searing pain he felt in his ribs as he did so.

"Blaine?"

The voice was breathless and tiny, but his eyes flew open the moment he heard it, recognising it easily. "Kurt," he breathed out in response. It was like a sigh of relief, just at seeing the boy safe, clinging desperately to the bars that were between them.

"I'm so glad they didn't touch you," Blaine said, smiling weakly.

He frowned slightly, however, when he registered the fact that Kurt's face was tearstained, his eyes red and bleary, filled with tears that threatened to spill over at any moment. He shut his eyes, a few tears leaking out, and shook his head. "I'm so sorry," he cried. "God, Blaine, I am _so_ sorry..."

Blaine instinctively attempted to move forward, but winced when the metal braces cut into his wrists. He wanted more than anything to kiss each of those tears away, but instead his heart shattered as he was forced to simply watch.

"Don't apologise," Blaine told him softly. "You didn't do this. It isn't your fault."

"But it _is_!" Kurt insisted. "If I wasn't the prince, if I wasn't so afraid of the social consequences... we wouldn't have to be subjected to this. We could be together and nobody would care."

"I've told you before that you're worth it, Kurt," Blaine breathed out. "You're worth everything. I would walk right off the ends of the Earth if it meant I could even just kiss you one more time."

Kurt's lips twitched, threatening a smile, but he shook his head. "You think too highly of me," he said. "And perhaps that makes you too good for someone like me."

"Or maybe it makes us perfect," Blaine told him, and Kurt laughed.

"Maybe," he responded.

Blaine smiled in response, allowing himself to close his eyes. The pain he felt was overwhelming, and he felt his body telling him to fall asleep. If he slept, it would get better.

Kurt, sensing this, only was filled with panic, however. "Blaine," he said quickly. "Blaine, please stay awake. You mustn't fall back asleep."

"I'm so tired," Blaine managed to respond, without even opening his eyes.

Kurt's mind raced. "Sing with me," he quickly offered. "You've always said that you want to hear me sing, right?"

"Mmhmm," Blaine hummed in response.

"Well, I can't sing it alone," Kurt told him. "So I'll need you to sing it with me, all right?"

Blaine didn't respond. Kurt took a shuddering breath, hoping against all odds that he might still join in.

"_Are you going to Scarborough Fayre? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,_" he sang out, a little shakily. "_Remember me to one who lives there, for he was once a true love of mine..._"

Silence hung in the air, and Kurt felt a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach. Fear began setting in, until at last Blaine moved his mouth.

"_Have him find me an acre of land,_" he sang, though his voice was weak. "_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme... Between the sea and oe'r the sand. Then he'll be a true love of mine._"

"_Love imposes impossible tasks_," Kurt responded, his heart fluttering as he did so, pleased that Blaine was hanging onto consciousness for at least a small period.

"_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,_" Blaine continued, and Kurt smiled.

"_Although not more than any heart asks_," Kurt sang softly, forcing his hand through the bars so that he could gently rest a hand on Blaine's leg. The stablehand smiled weakly. "_And I must know he's a true love of mine..._"

"Beautiful," Blaine finally whispered, and Kurt let out a watery laugh. "I wish you'd let me sing with you before."

"To be honest, I didn't think I'd be good enough," the prince responded. "I think you sing far better than I do."

"You're perfect," Blaine said. "Wish I could sing with you more, I'm just so... _so_ tired. And it hurts. It hurts so badly, Kurt."

"Well," Kurt replied, an idea forming in his head, "you'll have to make it through this to sing with me again, all right?"

Blaine nodded slowly, as though it took a great deal of effort. Kurt licked his lips nervously.

"You need to promise me, Blaine," he said, feeling the tears forming in his eyes once again. "Promise me, and then you'll have to keep it. You should know that I don't look kindly upon broken promises."

Again the boy nodded. Kurt shifted forward on his knees, trying to keep the boy's attention.

"Promise me, Blaine," Kurt urged, squeezing the stablehand's leg slightly. He almost hated himself for sounding so desperate. He knew from past experiences that even when the person intended completely to keep such a vow it didn't always happen. Still, he somehow felt as though perhaps Blaine's saying these words meant he had not yet given up. "Promise me that we'll sing together again. _Please_."

"Promise."

* * *

Mercedes cleared her throat, glancing around the table. To her left were Jeff and Nick respectively, who had been the first to gain knowledge of the attack. Beside the brunette boy was Brittany, who had been there with Mercedes when the stablehands had come to tell them what had happened. Next to Brittany sat Lauren, who Mercedes understood had a soft spot for the Prince, although she had never spoken to her personally. And on Mercedes's other side, sitting between her and Lauren... Santana.

"Why are you even here?" Lauren bit out, and the girl raised her eyebrows.

"I understand you all hate me," she responded smoothly. "Some of you with good reason. But honestly, I've found myself to admire both the prince and Blaine. I want to help, and I'm a valuable asset."

Jeff and Nick both made to object, but Mercedes cut across them. "She's right," she said. "We need all the help we can get."

"Why aren't we telling Prince Kurt about it, then?" Jeff asked a little hesitantly. "He could easily help—"

"No," Mercedes said quickly. "He mustn't know."

"And why not?" Santana asked.

"Other than his being distraught," Mercedes responded evenly, "our chance of failure is very high. Should we mention it to him, even in passing... He'll call it off before we can even start."

Nick nodded. "We need to act quickly," he said.

"I have a plan," Mercedes said. "It won't be simple." She bit her lip. "Lauren and Brittany, we'll need your cooking expertise. Santana, you'll be the perfect distraction. Jeff and Nick, you'll be half of the muscle that we need."

"Half?" Santana asked. "Who do you plan on using for the other half? I hardly expect you..."

Mercedes shook her head. "I'll be staying with Kurt, so he doesn't try to stop us at any point." She looked down at her hands. "Karofsky was smart to send off Finn and Puck to do whatever it is they are doing. But I have faith that one other member of the king's army might be a good enough soul to aid us."

* * *

Mercedes took a deep breath, knocking on the door with slight hesitation. She heard the invitation to enter, and inhaled, pressing the door open, a tray of tea in her hands.

The blond knight looked up at her from his seat as his desk in curiosity.

"My lord," she said, curtseying once she'd placed the tea in front of him.

"Thank you," Sam responded. "But... to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I know you know very little—or rather, nothing—of me, but I have a favour to ask of you," she said slowly.

"Yes?" he pressed on.

"It's to fix a wrong done by Karofsky." She paused. "I hesitate to tell you all of the circumstances," she told him, "but I believe you to be trustworthy."

He smiled. "Well, for you, my beautiful lady, I would do anything to help."

* * *

"Brittany, wait," Santana said, quickly following the blond out of the room where they had been meeting.

The blond turned to her, looking at her with a mixture of sadness and curiosity. "What is it?"

"Could we... could we speak for a moment?" Santana offered, and Brittany nodded. The dark hair girl looked down, away from Brittany's gaze.

"I wanted to apologise," she said in an uncharacteristically small voice. "For lying about who I was. For everything I said to them. For hurting you."

"Prince Kurt told me it's because you're afraid," Brittany commented.

Santana let out a bitter laugh, wiping at her eyes. "Prince Kurt is very intelligent," she said. "I suppose I am afraid. Just because there are some in the kingdom that are accepting doesn't mean that many are. I don't want to be the target of such hatred because..."

"Because what?" Brittany asked.

"Because I'd rather be with you than a man," she sighed. "I can't explain it, but... I love you, Brittany. And after seeing what happened to Blaine and Prince Kurt, I... I can't stand the idea of letting you go on not knowing that, should something ever happen... to one of us..."

She hesitated for only a moment before gently cupping Brittany's face in her hands, and drawing her close. She pressed her lips to hers.

When she finally pulled back, Brittany was smiling broadly.

"I accept your apology," she said simply and excitedly. "And I love you too."


	17. Chapter Sixteen

******parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme**

* * *

**chapter sixteen;**

Santana clenched and unclenched her fists, preparing herself mentally. She was perfect for the part, she knew she was.

She took a deep breath as Brittany appeared at her side, a tray of tea in her hands. "Are you ready?" she asked, giving her hand a quick squeeze before returning it to the tray.

Santana nodded.

"Mercedes said I should go first so he doesn't suspect you have anything to do with it," Brittany continued. And with another swift smile, she entered the room, leaving Santana behind.

Several minutes passed and Santana pressed her ear to the door. There was only clanking and she imagined Karofsky pouring himself the tea Brittany had presented. The dark-haired girl took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

"Good evening, Commander," she said in a silky tone, and Karofsky looked up at her.

"What do _you_ want?" he spat, and Santana did her best not to let her smile slip.

"Why so cold?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"I don't look so kindly on what you did to me just a few weeks ago," he said, and she lowered herself into a chair. Her mind began racing as she sought out some sort of response.

_Anything_, she thought desperately. _Only until whatever Lauren and Brittany concocted starts to work._

"My greatest apologies," she said suddenly. "You see, I was very much... misguided when I acted that night."

"How so?" Karofsky asked with curiosity, and to Santana's pleasure she noticed he had already finished off his tea. She quickly moved in to pour him another cup.

"I was one of those that Blaine had manipulated into believing that he was the victim," Santana said easily. "I should have known better, though. A stablehand's rightful place is not with nobility."

"How truly spoken," Karofsky muttered.

"I do trust that in no time at all, his highness will recognise the kindness you've done him in getting rid of that awful stablehand," Santana said, and Karofsky smiled. She leaned in closer to him. "I say that you and I head into the village for a celebratory drink. I daresay that you deserve it."

"Sounds like a grand idea," he responded. He got to his feet.

As Santana started to stand, however, Karofsky fell to the floor. Almost immediately Brittany, Nick, and Jeff were in the room, kneeling over the commander's body.

"What did you end up giving him, Brittany?" Santana asked, and the cook grinned.

"Valerian," she said. "It's an herb. It was Lauren's idea. A little bit in tea helps with sleep."

"I reckon she included quite a bit," Nick murmured as Jeff carefully slid one of the keys off the commander's belt and handed it to Brittany. He then pulled out a key from his pocket and slid it back onto the loop with the others.

"What are you two doing with him now?" Santana asked.

"We'll be taking him to the edge of town," Jeff said. "We have a friend who raises pigs."

"We're leaving Karofsky to lay with them for the night," Nick added.

"Then when he wakes up, he'll be told the two of you were out drinking and he passed out."

Santana nodded approvingly. "Do you need any help?"

"Just in getting him to the garden, I think," Jeff said as he lifted beneath Karofsky's arms, Nick grabbing under his knees. "We were going to use the barrow there."

"I ought to go pass this key on," Brittany commented, and Santana nodded.

"Best of luck," she said, holding the door for the boys, and they were gone.

Brittany didn't waste another moment, running from the room, squeezing the old key tightly in her hand. She took the stairs two at a time, not wanting anyone to have to wait another moment.

At last she reached the dungeon, spotting a boy with blond hair at the far end of the corridor. She slowly approached him.

"Are you one of Karofsky's men?" she asked tentatively.

He shook his head. "They've gone. I told them I was instructed to take over watching their prisoner."

"Then you're the one helping us?"

He nodded. "I am," he said with a faint smile. "My name is Sam."

Brittany's face softened, and she handed Sam the key. "Thank you," she said quickly. "Blaine is very special to Prince Kurt."

"I completely understand," he responded, pushing open the cell's door with a creak. Blaine stirred, pushing himself back further against the wall, his eyes unable to adjust in the dim light.

"It's all right," Brittany said immediately to him, kneeling beside the boy as Sam made quick work of his shackles. "We're rescuing you."

* * *

Kurt sighed, his hand against his forehead. "I need to be doing something, Mercedes," he breathed out, and his chambermaid took his other hand in her own. "I need to be doing something to get him out of there. Maybe... maybe I should just accept the consequences and admit everything. To everyone... to my father... But I know just as well that Karofsky will twist everything I say to serve his purpose. I just can't help but hate myself for all that's happened." He let out a bitter laugh. "Blaine says I'm brave—says I have _courage_. But I'm being a complete coward. I'm running from everything, and I can't even help _him_."

Mercedes opened her mouth to respond, to say something reassuring, or at least to remind him that he had stayed with the boy until Karofsky's men had dragged him away, when there was a knock on the door. Immediately she jumped to her feet, her heart pounding as she opened the door.

Brittany was first to enter Kurt's chambers, quickly followed by Sam. And in his arms—looking battered, though that hardly mattered anymore—was _Blaine_.

Kurt was quickly on his feet, Mercedes ushering Sam to the bed, where he set Blaine down gently.

Kurt stared at them all disbelievingly. "How—"

"Does it matter?" Mercedes asked kindly as she settled herself beside Blaine. The stablehand smiled weakly at the prince as Mercedes immediately began tending to his wounds, and Kurt shook his head vaguely.

"Thank you," he breathed out, looking now at Sam and Brittany. "All of you."

"Always," Brittany said, curtseying.

"We'll leave you be," Sam said, and Brittany nodded, the two leaving the room.

Kurt inhaled deeply, turning his attention back to the boy on his bed. He smiled softly at him, sitting in the chair beside him and taking the boy's hand in his own.

"I've said before that you have many people who love you, Kurt," Blaine said weakly, a faint smile on his lips.

"I think the same can be said for you," he responded, lifting Blaine's hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "I owe them so much. I owe them _everything."_

"Perhaps they see this as a response to all you've done for them," Blaine countered.

"In addition to simply having a sense of right and wrong," Mercedes added playfully as she finished bandaging the wound on Blaine's arm. "Turn this way," she then instructed. "I need to clean up your face."

Blaine obliged as Mercedes pressed a damp cloth to his face, cleaning off the dirt and blood.

"How are you feeling?" Kurt asked tentatively.

"Better," Blaine said, "now that I've been returned to you."

Kurt shook his head, though a smile was playing at his lips. "It's a serious question, Blaine," he said. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Everything's still a bit sore," he admitted. "And my throat's very dry."

Kurt quickly nodded, reaching for the jug of water at his bedside, pouring some into a cup for the stablehand.

"I need you to sit up a bit so I can tend to your chest," Mercedes told him. "Then you can have your water, as well."

Blaine nodded, and Kurt and Mercedes gently helped him into a sitting position, as he leaned back against the headboard. Mercedes began cleaning the cuts on his chest and abdomen, and he turned back to Kurt. The prince forced a smile and held out the water to him.

"Thank you," Blaine whispered. He drank it quickly before giving the cup back to Kurt.

"Is there anything else you need?" Kurt quickly asked.

"Brittany offered to cook for you at any time, if you're hungry," Mercedes commented.

"Just some rest, I think," Blaine responded.

Mercedes smiled softly. "I'll leave the two of you be, then," she said, gathering the unused bandages and jar of medicinal cream that she'd brought. And with that, she was gone.

The moment they were alone, Blaine tried to adjust himself, but winced in pain. Immediately Kurt was climbing into the bed beside him, taking Mercedes's now vacant spot.

"Careful," Kurt murmured. Cautiously he reached out to the stablehand, gingerly pulling him into his arms. "I'm _so _glad to have you here again."

"I must say I am as well," Blaine responded, and Kurt sighed.

"I wish you wouldn't jest," he mumbled. "I hated every moment of it. I hated not knowing what I could do. I felt so... so useless."

"You had far more to lose," Blaine told him, but Kurt shook his head.

"And losing you was a better option?"

"You weren't about to lose me."

"You sound so certain," Kurt said.

"And you're not," Blaine sighed. "You need to forgive yourself. It isn't as though I blame you in any way."

"Well, perhaps you should."

Blaine sighed once again. "Come here," he breathed, pulling Kurt's face close and pressing a slow kiss to his lips. "I love you, Kurt."

"And I, you," Kurt said with a faint smile. "But I can't let anything like this happen again."

Blaine frowned. "What—"

"I'm abdicating the throne," Kurt said in a hollow voice. "When the time comes, Finn will be king instead of me. I... I want nothing more of it."

* * *

Finn and Puck burst through the doors, startling the workers who had been sitting in the kitchen the next morning, discussing the events of the night before.

"I need a word with my brother," Finn said, his voice even.

"He's resting," Mercedes said, getting to her feet. "Please, don't disturb him."

Finn tilted his head. "Is he ill?"

"Just very strained," Mercedes responded slowly, and Finn nodded. "May I ask what's the matter?"

Finn sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Our mother and father are on their way home."

Sam frowned from the table. "I thought they were negotiating terms with Goolsby in Carmel."

Puck shook his head. "They were. We received word while on that ridiculous mission..." He paused, turning back to the prince.

"The treaty's broken," Finn said. "We're going to war."


	18. Chapter Seventeen

******parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme**

* * *

**chapter seventeen;**

Weeks passed with increasing tension, turning slowly into a few months of war. Kurt was constantly distracted, spending days conversing and discussing tactics and plans with his father and step-brother, his evenings in the quarters shared by the three stableboys. He found that on many occasions, he'd catch Karofsky giving him and many of the workers strange looks, almost as though he was mentally accusing them of something. But still, every time that Kurt pressed Mercedes, Brittany, and the others from the details of what had happened that night they 'rescued' Blaine, they wouldn't give him a straight answer. He did his best not to dwell on it—once Finn had returned, shortly followed by the king and queen, what little power Karofsky had possessed during that short period had vanished.

It took quite some time for Blaine to manage to find Finn alone with the amount of time he spent practicing, awaiting battle, and strategising with his father and the army's commanders. However, at last his chance came, one early morning, when Finn stopped by the stables so that he could go for a ride, readying himself even further for the upcoming war.

"Your highness," Blaine said, a little nervously, the horses's reigns held firmly in his hands, his tightly-wound bandages easily hidden by his winter clothes and his bruises fading. "May I have a word?" Finn tilted his head curiously. "About your stepbrother."

"Blaine," Finn said, as though finally making the connection of exactly who he was talking to. "You're courting my brother, aren't you?"

Blaine choked slightly. "Well, not officially," he responded breathlessly, "but, yes, yes I am."

"This isn't a question about anything... _romantic_, is it?" Finn asked a little awkwardly. "While I completely support the idea, I'm not sure—"

"No," Blaine said quickly. "It's about matters that probably do not concern me. But it does concern you, and I think you may be the only person to convince Prince Kurt that he's making a poor choice."

"Go on," Finn said curiously, and Blaine sighed.

"Your brother wants to give up his right to be king," he said.

"_What_? Why?"

"He seems to be under the impression that it's protecting me," Blaine said. "I'm afraid, however, he's losing himself in order to do so."

Finn sighed. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he mumbled.

Blaine frowned. "How do you mean?"

"I've never wanted to be king. I've never wanted any of it," Finn admitted. "Quinn always wanted for me to be king, for her to be queen by my side. But that isn't what _I_ want. Certainly I have the qualities of a leader, as Rachel always said, but... but to run the army, not the entire kingdom."

Blaine nodded. "It was your birthright, until the kingdoms joined," he said.

"Exactly," Finn said. "I admit, I may not have been happy at first about the prospect of Kurt as my stepbrother, but the moment I learned he was _older,_ even the most miniscule amount... Dear god, he took such a weight from me. And now, I love him, and I know that he'll be the only person fit to rule when his father passes. Not me, _him_."

"If he heard that from you," Blaine said slowly, handing the reigns to the prince, "perhaps he wouldn't throw everything away so hastily."

Finn nodded. "Thank you, Blaine," he responded, and the stablehand offered a small smile. "I'll... I'll talk to him."

* * *

Blaine glanced up from the table when Kurt entered the room. He smiled, though his face quickly fell upon seeing Kurt's expression.

"What did you say to my brother?" Kurt asked, his arms folded across his chest. Jeff and Nick quickly busied themselves with their food once more.

"I don't—"

"I find it hard to believe he came to me on his own accord when you are the _only_ person I told I plan to relinquish the throne," Kurt snapped, and Jeff coughed slightly, Nick nearly dropping his cup of tea. "You _told_ him."

Blaine took a deep breath, licking his lips. "I don't regret it if he convinced you otherwise," he said, his voice unwavering, but it only deepened Kurt's frown.

"You think it's something I haven't put great thought into?" he asked. "I've put a grand amount of consideration into it. This isn't choosing what pastry to have with your tea, it's my life. And _yours_."

"Exactly," Blaine responded. "Your _life_. Don't toss away your future—"

"I'm _not_!" Kurt said. "You're more important than that."

Silence fell, Jeff and Nick shifting uncomfortably in their seats, Blaine struggling for something to say.

Jeff at last cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should leave—"

"No," Kurt quickly cut in. "I think Blaine and I have finished discussing this."

At that moment, the door open, and Kurt turned, furrowing his brow as his brother strode through the dining room with an unreadable expression on his face. Blaine watched Kurt's expression fall, as though knowing what was coming.

"Finn?" he asked slowly, his voice suddenly small.

"We need to speak with your father," was all that Finn said.

Kurt gave a single nod, and wordlessly left the room with his stepbrother.

Nick frowned once the door closed behind them. "What do you reckon that was all that about?"

"No idea," Jeff responded. "Something about the war? What do you think, Blaine?"

"I have an inkling," Blaine said, "but I hope for their sake it isn't true."

* * *

The three boys were cleaning out the stalls when Kurt entered the stables, a somber look on his face. Whereas he'd begun to let himself be so comfortable around the stablehands, now he was distant, his demeanor more proper than it had been in months. The change did not go unnoticed.

"Kurt," Blaine said, his voice hardly audible. "What happ—"

"The casualties are growing in number," Kurt said shortly. "It's simply more than the lower ranks can handle. They've called in reinforcements. They've asked for the best we have. So we're sending Karofsky's division."

The boys were quiet, the meaning behind his words evident. Finn would be sent off to fight, something that the entire castle had been hoping would not have to happen during the course of the war. Nick and Jeff once again felt as though they were impeding on a more personal moment, though Kurt simply held his head high, his hands the only part of him that showed any emotion as they clenched and unclenched, fingers extending to their full length.

"The horses need to be prepared," he continued. "They'll be riding the first thing in the morning. Jeff and Nick, you're familiar with the procedures."

The boys nodded and Kurt turned, walking briskly away, though Blaine quickly ran after him, clasping onto the prince's wrist.

"Kurt," he said, breathless, his heart breaking for the boy. "God, Kurt, I'm—"

The prince shook his head. "It was to be expected," he said, still expressionless. "I don't know why we were foolish enough to believe otherwise. Finn and the others... they're the best. And while we've been making definite progress in defeating Carmel and Goolsby... it's only natural we would need to send those who can ensure a victory."

Blaine sighed. "But it shouldn't have to be like this," he said. "After what we went through—"

"That's in the past," Kurt said simply. "And now, this is just another bridge to cross. My brother's willingness to die for the kingdom has always been respectable..."

"Kurt," Blaine said delicately. "You can speak with me, talk to me about how you're truly hurting and let me try to help you. This isn't a moment you have to put on a brave front."

Kurt shook his head. "But it is," he said. "You were right. Finn was right. I'm meant to be king. It isn't a choice. And I need to start acting appropriately."

Blaine's heart sunk. "Does that mean... for us..." he stammered, trailing off and looking hesitantly to Kurt. He suddenly seemed more vulnerable than Kurt had seen him since the ordeal with Karofsky.

"Nothing is coming between us," the prince breathed out. They embraced tightly, Kurt burying his face into the boy's neck. "I didn't mean to imply that in any way, Blaine."

"I understand," Blaine said. "Just another trial we must face."

Kurt nodded. "I love you," he whispered, and Blaine tightened his grip against him. "I'm never saying goodbye to you."

* * *

"Rachel!"

The girl started, rushing to the window as she heard the calls for her from the street. She peered out, looking questioningly as Jesse waved up at her with urgency.

"What is it?" she asked. Her eyes narrowed, realising that people were rushing past the boy, heading toward the center of the town. "Jesse, what—?"

"Hurry up!" he shouted back to her. "There's a meeting in the square—the king's getting ready to address his people!"

Rachel nodded, pulling herself back into the room. She took a deep breath, straightening her clothes and hair before hurrying downstairs, and out the door. The moment she reached Jesse, he pulled her in for a swift kiss. She smiled and he took her hand, running down the road until they were in the middle of the crowd of people gathering to hear whatever it was the king was saying.

"This war should, any day, now," he was saying confidently, his voice booming over the crowd, "be coming to a close!"

The crowd was cheering, and Rachel glanced at Jesse curiously, though he was watching King Goolsby with a smirk.

"When they dispatched their finest troupes in order to defeat us just a few weeks ago," the king went on, "I am sure that they never expected us to turn the tables in such a way."

Again Rachel turned to the boy she was courting. "What is he talking about?" she asked, but Jesse quickly hushed her.

"You see," he continued. "We find ourselves in possession of something very important to their King. Or more specifically, their Queen."

There was murmuring throughout the crowd, the people's curiosity piqued. Meanwhile, Rachel's heart pounded in her throat, as her wandering mind reached a possible answer to her questions. But no, it simply couldn't be...

A smile broke across the king's face as he opened his arms dramatically. "We have captured," he shouted, "the crowned prince!"


	19. Chapter Eighteen

******parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme**

* * *

**chapter eighteen;**

Kurt was startled as the voices downstairs escalated. The yelling violated his ears, and at last he threw down his book and made his way to see what the commotion was all about. His stomach gave a strange lurch when he reached the entrance hall and spotted Karofsky.

But then, it made very little sense—Karofsky was supposed to be in _Carmel_, not in the foyer, being berated by the king.

"Father?" Kurt offered, and the two stopped and turned to Kurt.

Burt rubbed his fingers against his temples, in order to soothe his aching head. When he opened his eyes once more, he realised that workers were filing into the hall in order to examine the scene more closely. Burt sighed exasperatedly.

"Son," he said gently, "I need to have a word."

Kurt nodded, stepping to the side as his father strode past, the prince ready to follow. However, he then stopped in his tracks and shouted, "Karofsky! Don't think you've been pardoned—you best follow as well."

Kurt walked closely behind his father, sensing as Karofsky held back just a little bit, seeming to drag his feet as he walked. But Kurt didn't look back and only kept walking. He desperately wondered what had gone so wrong that had brought them to this precise moment.

Burt slammed the door to his personal study behind the two boys. He began pacing the length of the room, and Kurt simply stood in confusion.

It was Karofsky that first made an effort to speak. "Your majesty, I—"

"Don't say a _word_!" Burt roared, and Kurt raised his eyebrows.

"Father," he quietly asked, with enough force that he wouldn't be able to avoid the question. "What happened?"

Burt sighed once again. "Your brother and the rest of the company have been captured," he said, and Kurt felt a sharp pain in his chest. "Yet _somehow_, this spineless rat has found his way out of harm and trouble, and he has returned. Care to explain it again, would you?"

Karofsky didn't look at Kurt when he spoke again. "It wasn't as I planned, your highness," he said in an oddly strangled voice. "Your brother wasn't following orders—"

"Don't you _dare_ try to place the blame on him instead!" Burt spat, and Karofsky directed his attention to the floor.

"_What happened_?" Kurt asked urgently.

"There was an argument," Karofsky began again. "I said again and again that I was the one in power, but it left our men divided, and so we were weaker."

"And who made the order," Burt growled, "that got the men captured?"

Karofsky closed his eyes. "I did."

"And yet _you_ are the one walking as a free man," Burt said.

"I am," Karofsky agreed. In one swift movement, Burt crossed the room, grabbing the commander by the collar.

"Father!" Kurt cried out, instantly attempting to pull the king from Karofsky. "Please, father," he pleaded. "You're ill..."

Burt released his grip on the commander, hearing the pain in his son's voice. He took a deep breath. "Son, I'm placing you in charge of gathering men for a recovery mission," he said. "You know the ability of those in the kingdom far better than I ever could, especially with my recent absenses."

Kurt looked surprised. "But father—"

"I trust you," he responded, placing a hand on his shoulder and staring him straight in the eye. Kurt gave a nod and Burt smiled at him before turning back to Karofsky. "And you make sure this _vermin_ doesn't weasel his way out of any of it." And with that, he left the room.

Kurt made to leave the room after him, his mind racing, thinking of methods and plans and _anything_ that might help him the slightest bit in rescuing his brother and the rest of the knights.

"Your highness, please wait."

Kurt turned to Karofsky, quirking a brow as he stared at the man who deserted the troops. "Yes?"

The commander raised his hand, and ran it through his hair. "I need to tell you how incredibly sorry I am," he said softly, "for everything I've done to you. It wasn't right."

Kurt's surprise piqued. "You're..."

"I'm sorry," Karofsky repeated.

Kurt shook his head. "I just don't understand," he responded. "Everything that you did... you had to know how wrong it was. Did you simply not care?"

Karofsky paused for a brief moment. "It's no excuse, but... the things I felt—"

Kurt pushed his bangs out of his eyes. "No. Stop. The things you did to me, the things you _stole_ from me..." He sighed. "And now you're going to argue that it's because of what you think you _feel_ for me?"

"It isn't right," Karofsky continued. "It... it isn't normal—"

"You realise you're implying that _I'm_ abnormal," Kurt shot, and Karofsky was silent. He shook his head again. "You need to accept yourself and all that comes with it. Just because most men do not prefer the company of other men doesn't make you wrong for doing so."

Karofsky shook his head this time. "I just... I _can't_." He turned and left before Kurt could say another word.

The moment he was alone, Kurt collapsed into one of the chairs in the study, hiding his face in his hands, mulling over everything that had just happened.

"Kurt?"

The prince lowered his hands, his face softening slightly when his eyes met Blaine's. "How did you find me?" he asked, his voice a little thick.

"Mercedes said she saw you head off this way," Blaine responded slowly. "What's wrong?"

Kurt gave him a sad smile, once again directing his attention to the floor. "I often wonder how it is I'm supposed to make everything right," he said. "My father's ill, my brother's company has been captured, and Karofsky would rather do anything else in his power than just accept himself."

Blaine leaned in, pressing a kiss to Kurt's forehead. "It isn't always your place to make everything better for everyone," he said. "Though I do understand feeling as though it is." He paused. "Is there anything at all I can do?"

"Just for you to be here is perfect," Kurt responded, moving forward and giving Blaine a lingering kiss. He drew away, and then paused. "Why didn't you even flinch when I mentioned that my brother and his men were taken in Carmel?"

Blaine paused. "Rachel's returned," he said softly. "She told me of everything that happened while she was gone. Apparently she was staying in Carmel, and was there when Goolsby revealed what had happened."

Kurt instantly got to his feet. "She's here?"

Blaine nodded. "She was asking for you, actually," he said. "But I can see now that you've already received the news about your brother."

"Karofsky's returned," Kurt said. "He managed to avoid the capture altogether. He's returned without my brother or anyone else." Blaine reached out, taking Kurt's hand in his. "My father expects me to recruit men to rescue them."

Blaine gave his hand a squeeze. "You know the kingdom best," he said, and Kurt smiled.

"Precisely what he told me," he sighed. Then, a pause. "Would you mind taking me to Rachel? I have some questions. After living in Carmel, she might be the most aid to us."

* * *

Kurt took a deep breath, staring out into the courtyard, where hundreds were gathered to hear his every word. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, folding his hands together.

"As I'm sure word has spread quickly, many of you have already been made aware that the king of Carmel has taken our best men, and is holding them," Kurt said, his voice carrying over the crowd. "Among them is my brother, the prince."

Everyone was silent as they listened, and Kurt took a deep, steadying breath.

"Through the last few months, we've sent and lost many men to this terrible war," Kurt continued. "We sent my brother's men in hopes to put an end to the losses. But now, we must request the aid of a small company of men. We are in need of a select few who will go on a mission designed by myself, in collaboration with the best of the kingdom. A few men willing to risk everything for their country."

Murmurs broke out through the crowd, and Kurt squeezed his eyes shut for another moment.

"We are in need," he continued, "of a hero."

He looked down, his pulse rapid as he awaited a response, if one should come. There was still an overwhelming silence before him.

"I will."

Kurt's head snapped up as he heard the voice calling through the crowd, his heart stopping as recognition set in. People parted so that the young man could step forward.

"_Blaine_," Kurt breathed out, completely inaudible. He straightened himself as Blaine approached, and bowed grandly before the Prince. "You're not doing this," he hissed, but Blaine turned back to the crowd very quickly.

"I understand all the terms of agreeing to this, your highness," he stated loudly, turning once again to the prince. "I gladly accept them."

There was cheering and excitement in the crowd, and Kurt glanced around them desperately, almost praying that someone else would step forward, or at least make an objection. However, when they instead simply began chattering happily that this, _this_ might bring an end to the war, Kurt clasped tightly onto Blaine's wrist and dragged him back into the castle.

"Are you _insane_?" he asked angrily. "Blaine, you can't even handle a sword—"

"But I can," the stablehand cut in. "Before my father and I parted ways, I learned quite a bit from him. He was a blacksmith, and I was supposed to follow in his footsteps. I spent a great span during my childhood learning everything I could about the blade."

Kurt simply shook his head. "You can't do this," he pressed on. "I'm begging you not to."

"You're going to be the _king_, Kurt," Blaine responded. "You can't lose your kingdom in an effort to keep me safe."

"But it doesn't have to be _you_," Kurt persisted, his voice breaking slightly, but Blaine shook his head.

"I believe it does," Blaine replied. "This is the solution we've been seeking, Kurt. I won't be a simple stablehand, anymore. I'll be someone _worthy_ of a prince." He placed his hand on Kurt's cheek, wiping away a solitary tear. He leaned up, kissing him softly.

"You could be killed," Kurt murmured.

"I will do whatever it takes to return to you," he responded. "I love you, and I have faith in the plans you've laid out for this mission."

"Then stay with me," the prince said in a small voice. "For tonight."

Blaine nodded, forcing a smile as he kissed the prince once again. "You needn't ask," he said, lifting Kurt's hand to his lips.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme**

**Notes: **So this story has two more parts after this. One more chapter, and an epilogue. _However_, I have a lot going on right now, so this story is taking a bit of a backseat to my others. Still, I want to finish this as soon as I can.

Once I have this WIP finished, I'm going to start planning another (especially with _These Broken Wings_ 30/45 chapters finished). If you haven't voted on the poll on my author page, please do! I'd love to know what you'd most like to read next.

Thanks!

* * *

**chapter nineteen;**

Kurt awoke, fairly certain that it was far later than he should have. Instead of pulling himself out of bed, he hugged his blankets a little closer to himself and rolled to his other side. However, he quickly noticed that the other side of his bed was now empty and cold. He opened his eyes to see the blankets neatly folded back into place.

The prince sat up in his bed, staring at the side of it that had been vacated, as though if he looked at it long enough the boy who'd been there before might suddenly materialize again.

He glanced up, suddenly registering the other figure in his room. But there was Mercedes, who quickly noticed that the prince was awake. She crossed the room, the prince's dressing gown in her hands, and Kurt found himself pulling his covers to his chest self-consciously. He took the garment from her, muttering his thanks. He opened his mouth again to offer some sort of explanation (though he still hadn't settled on whether or not to give her the truth), but she simply shook her head and turned to the door.

"I've drawn a bath for you," she told him, though her voice was almost recognisable. He cursed under his breath as soon as she was gone, wondering just how terrible of a friend he was to not notice that she had been quietly suffering as well. But, he told himself, he'd find the source of it once he was dressed.

An hour later, Kurt found himself at the entrance of the dining hall, his eyes slowly traveling across the room. Rachel was beside Carole, the two of them speaking in hushed voices, undoubtedly over Finn. In the opposite corner was Quinn, sitting quietly, though Brittany and Santana were tending to her; she'd returned the night before, as well, asking whether it was all true. His eyes fell upon Mercedes, who was standing quietly beside the door to the kitchens, her head hung low.

He took a deep breath, approaching his chambermaid, the realisation of the situation setting in.

"Who is it that you're waiting for?" Kurt asked her at last.

She turned, slightly startled. "I—I'm sorry?" she responded.

"You're wearing the same lost expression as Rachel and Quinn and—" He cut himself off.

"And yourself, your highness?" she asked with a forced smile.

They fell quiet for a moment.

"Beside that, Quinn isn't waiting on anyone specific," Mercedes continued. "She confessed she's finished with them all romantically, at least for some time."

"That can't stop her from caring about them," Kurt said. "The situation they're in is a grave one."

Mercedes nodded, though again they were silent for a brief moment.

"It's the blond one, correct? The one who helped recover Blaine?" Kurt asked quietly. "Sam." Mercedes merely looked away. "Why did you never tell me?"

"You aren't the only one who's afraid that your feelings are completely and utterly improper, sire," she responded darkly.

"Everyone wants a knight to ride in and rescue them," he said, and Mercedes jerked her head up at the realisation that he was repeating her own words.

"Maybe I don't need or want to be rescued," she said.

"Maybe," Kurt countered, "you should allow yourself the chance regardless."

"Son." Kurt whipped around, startled slightly by the sudden appearance of his father. "I would like a word with you, if that's all right."

The prince nodded, and Mercedes curtseyed, murmuring a goodbye as Kurt and the king walked off.

At last, they came to a stop, Kurt leaning against the window frame, staring at the grounds below.

"And who is it that _you _are waiting for, son?"

The words cut through the air, causing Kurt's heart to come to a complete stop. He stiffened, but did his best not to give any other visible indication of his discomfort.

"I don't..."

"I'm not an idiot, Kurt," Burt said smoothly. "Your concern isn't just because of Finn."

Kurt simply swallowed, now looking at his father with a small look of fear.

"It's the stablehand, isn't it?" Burt asked, and Kurt's eyes widened. "You care about him, don't you?"

"I—father, I—" Kurt quickly swallowed again, trying to take in a breath to steady himself. "I'm so sorry, father."

Burt only raised his eyebrows. "What for?" he asked.

"For not being honest," he responded softly. "For... for having feelings for a... for another man—"

"Kurt," his father said sharply, "I would _never _love you any less for such a thing."

Kurt nodded, though a little hesitantly. "I know," he whispered, "but it is nice to hear. You can't pretend it will make anything simple, though. Gender aside, he's still only a stableboy, and I'm going to be _king_."

"He's a good man, son," Burt insisted. "He's gone to help rescue your step-brother. And if he should succeed, he'll be a hero."

"And what if he doesn't succeed?" Kurt suddenly burst out. "What if... what if I lose them _both_?"

"Kurt..."

The boy shook his head. "How did you do it, father?" he asked, his tone softer. "How did you manage to survive when mother died?"

"I had to, for you," Burt said simply.

Kurt shook his head again. "I just don't know how I can be expected to go on if I should lose you and Finn and Blaine..."

"You're not going to lose me, son," Burt responded.

"You can't know that," Kurt insisted. "You've been so _sick,_ so _weak_, that's why I—" He broke off, looking away once more.

His father stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Why you _what_, Kurt?"

"I've kept so much from you," Kurt said quietly.

"Then tell me," Burt urged. "Change all of that by telling me now."

Kurt swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding slowly. He would do it. He had to.

"I love him, father," he said in a choked whisper. "I didn't at first—when I met him, he... I thought he was a bit of a dolt because he couldn't even saddle Elizabeth properly, and _that_... that's why I fell the day of Karofsky's celebration. But I was an idiot about it all because I didn't even check her saddle, and I just... I suppose I started lying _then_ because I was too proud, but I also knew you'd just rid him from the castle and be done with it."

"You didn't want that, even then," Burt commented knowingly, and Kurt nodded.

"There was this pull I couldn't explain," he said softly. "I just... I didn't like him but I didn't want him _gone_. And then it was good that he'd never gone because he—he—"

Kurt froze, realising the part of the story he'd come to. He looked to his father for reassurance, and he nodded his head, urging him to continue.

"He saved me," the prince muttered. "Maybe not in the most literal sense, but..."

"But?"

"But Karofsky was—he was saying these _terrible_ things, and his hands were so tight on my shoulders, pushing me." Kurt shook his head at the memory. "And that was far from the only time. He even—he completely _destroyed_ Blaine while you and Carole were setting negotiations in Carmel. It was so brutal, I—" His voice faltered, and Burt stepped forward, resting a hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Son, why wouldn't you tell me about all of this?" Burt asked, his voice full of concern. "I'm the _king, _if I can't take care of my own son—"

"You're _sick_, father," Kurt said. "What if I told you and it... it _broke_ you?"

Burt took his son in his arms, holding him tightly for a moment. "We'll get through this," he told his son. "And they will, too."

* * *

It had happened quickly. One moment, they were fast-approaching the camp where the regiment was being held. The next, they being surrounded by a half-dozen men.

"We're dead," Nick mumbled, and Jeff shot him a look. The three stablehands and Karofsky were close together, the other men quickly drawing their weapons.

"Glad we can count on you for a bit of optimism," he snapped.

"Just tell me that the both of you did in fact listen to what I told you," Blaine breathed out, and each of them nodded.

"Every word," Jeff said.

"Time to prove that," Blaine responded. The moment the words left his mouth, the first of the other men struck with a yell. The stablehand easily countered the move, and their swords clanged together. The movements were faster than Blaine anticipated, having never actually practiced on another human being with any skill, but he did his best to fight off the two men that were targeting him. He only hoped that the others were having the same successes.

It was chaos as they all fought, Blaine certain that he was showing far less technique than he always

thought he possessed. But, he argued with himself, so long as he was successfully fighting them off, that might not be so important.

_Survival_ was.

He was panting heavily by the time his attackers had collapsed; only minor cuts on his arms where he'd been but a moment too slow. He only took a second to breathe, ready to move to help Nick and Jeff take on the impossibly large goon still clashing with them, when he glimpsed a smaller man, otherwise completely unnoticed, creeping behind Karofsky. He was posed to strike, sword ready to plunge itself through the commander's back.

Without a second thought, Blaine rushed between them, the blow just catching the outer edge of Blaine's elbow instead. He gritted his teeth in an effort to keep himself from crying out.

Immediately the man before him was struck down—though by Nick or Jeff he didn't see—and Blaine fell to his knees, his hand grasping onto his arm tightly in an attempt to stop the blood flow.

"We need to move," Karofsky said gruffly. "Now."

Quickly Nick and Jeff grasped onto Blaine, pulling him to his feet as gently as they could, all too aware of the danger of staying put.

They walked a relatively short distance to a more forested area, Blaine collapsing against the side of a tree while Karofsky ensured they were, in fact, alone. As soon as he was certain they were, he turned back to Blaine, who had Jeff and Nick hovering over him.

"You're a fool, Anderson!" Karofsky spat. "I'm already risking everything with the three of you in tow—"

"Are you serious?" Nick snapped as Jeff wrapped Blaine's wound in some of the cloth from his shirt. "He just _risked_ his _life_ for you—"

"It was hardly my life," Blaine said flatly, wincing as Jeff tightened the fabric on his arm. "Just perhaps a limb."

Karofsky only looked angrier. "Now you'll only be slowing this mission down. I don't need you—"

"I think it's clear," Jeff bit out, pulling at the wound's dressing, which Blaine found rather unnecessary as he winced in pain, "that you do. Or would _you_ rather be lying here bleeding, without a soul that cares?"

"_Stop_," Blaine told them. "We've made it this long and this far. We're _so_ close to Carmel, now. We can't be distracted from the point of this mission, now." Although silence fell amongst the group, they all still looked rather furious.

"I don't understand it," Nick mumbled as he crouched beside Blaine, frowning. "You didn't _have_ to do that."

"I hardly did it for him," Blaine responded, ensuring that his voice was just loud enough for Karofsky to hear, though he was no longer paying attention to them. "But he's not one to understand that."

There was a rustling close by, and suddenly everyone tensed. Karofsky turned to the source of the sound, his hand poised on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it from its sheath. A boy stepped forward, his hands held up before him in surrender.

"I mean no harm," he said quickly to the commander. "Are you the men sent to rescue the prince's company?"

"We are," Blaine responded quickly, and the boy directed his attention to them instead. "Who are you?"

"My name is Jesse St. James," he responded. "I come from Carmel."

At this Karofsky drew out his sword, but Blaine was quickly on his feet and standing between them.

"What do you want from us?" Blaine asked.

"I wish to help," Jesse responded, and Karofsky reluctantly lowered his sword. He quirked a brow as he glanced at the four boys. "By the looks of it, you certainly need it."

"Why would you want to help us?" Nick inquired shortly.

"I made a grave error," Jesse responded. "I believe it cost me the girl I love."

"Rachel," Blaine commented, and Jesse turned back to him, a faint smile on his face. "Of course."

"I've lived in Carmel all my life," Jesse continued. "I know every centimeter of it." He paused. "I also know where the prince's men are being held."


End file.
